#and NOW that she's decided to not do college am I allowed to maybe have the biggest chunk of my debt removed

[twowivestwoknives]

mother wants to call me about the money she’s been withholding from me as she’s been driving me into over 20k of debt over the past 5 years

[xetlynn]

alt au claggor x reader childhood friends to lovers maybe mylo convinces claggor to confess maybe spicy??? thank you ❤️❤️

>:3 made this feeling sick as heck but so proud of it🙏

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Confessions Lead To…

⚠️WARNING🔞: SMUT [arcane] [main page] prompt: in which Mylo actually has good advice for Claggor, leading him to a wonderful night. (I made it modern college au, just little mentions of modern day things) containing: fem!receiving oral, missionary, riding, anvil position, unprotected sex, creampie, slight cockwarming.

“Just do it, she obviously has a thing for you too!” Mylo tells his brother, hanging from the top of his loft bed. Claggor was pacing back and forth. “I can’t! I don’t want to ruin our friendship. What if I make it weird?” He esperates, rubbing his hands through his hair dramatically. 

“Dude, would [Name] do that? Honestly, answer me that.” The shorter one of the two asks with an annoyed expression laid on his face. “I mean, no but it could feel awkward between us and then I’ll look stupid.” Claggor frowns deeply. 

He’s had a crush on you for months now, it’s only getting substantial. “Claggor, I can’t tell you what to do. But I am telling you if you don’t do it you’ll be a pussy.” Mylo points a finger down at the larger man who gives him a deadpanned look. “You were the same if not worse when it came to Gert!” 

“Hey, at least I’m with her now. I shot my shot.” He defends himself, crossing his arms and looking up at the ceiling. Claggor sighs, knowing that his annoying brother is actually right. 

“Ugh, I swear if I’m doing the wrong thing no one will see me for a while.” His shoulders drop in defeat, leaving his brother’s room to get ready to confess his long-time feelings. Mylo wasn’t paying attention, raising a brow when he noticed that Claggor left… ten minutes later. 

•••

You hummed in your kitchen, finishing up some chores you wrote down to do for the day. You had the house to yourself since your roommate decided to go on a trip with her girlfriend. 

You get a ring from your phone in your back pocket, wiping your sweat and you pull it out. Answering it without checking and putting it up to your ear. “Hello?” “Oh, hey [Name]! That was a quick answer.” Claggor chuckled on the other line. A smile erupts on your face. 

“Hii, Claggs.” You threw your rag on the counter, leaning next to it. “Can I come over? For a little bit. If not, I understand.” He seemed extremely timid which caused you to tense up. “Um, of course! I’m just doing those chores I told you about but I could use a little break.” You happily say despite the horrible gut feeling you got. 

“Awesome, see you in 5.” He hangs up the phone before you even get the chance to respond. You stare at the phone for a few moments, placing it beside the rag. You go to the bathroom to clean up a little bit, interrupted by the sound of your doorbell. 

Claggor’s apartment was two floors down from yours so you’re not surprised he got here as quickly as he did. You go to the door, swinging it open. You move out of the way allowing him to enter. “Something wrong?” You scrunch your nose. “No, not at all. Why?” He asks with sweat forming on his forehead. “You seem a little off is all.” You shrug your shoulders. He heads to your bedroom, you behind him. 

“What’s going on? You’re worrying me a little bit.” You mustered a meekly smile. “I’m sorry.” He sighs, drooping down on your bed. He comes over often so this is normal for the both of you. He was too embarrassed of Mylo so he deemed your place to be better to hang out if you guys weren’t going out. 

“Is there something I should be worried about?” You hold yourself now. “I don’t know. I’m just going to come out and say it so prepare yourself I guess?” He avoids eye contact, his eyes wandering everywhere except at you. “I think I like you. Well I know I do. A lot. I have for a few months now. I didn’t know how to stop them and when I tried it made it worse.” He explains leaving you in shock, this being the last thing you were expecting from Claggor. 

“I feel like a child, giddy whenever the smallest thing happens between us. It’s truly pathetic.” He laughs at himself, your lips twitching upwards. “It’s not pathetic.” You tell him. 

“I’m the same way when I like someone.” You sit next to him on the bed, grabbing his hand. “When I like you I should say.” You watch his face blush a bright pink. “You feel the same?”

“Yeah, I have for a little bit now.” You nod your head, keeping his hand folded with your own. “That’s crazy to me. How could someone like you give me such the honor of liking me.” He whispers it was mainly to himself but you heard. You rolled your eyes playfully, grabbing his face with your other hand. “You’re so dumb. You’re perfect for me.” You coo, slowly leaning forward. His eyes widen but he follows your lead. 

Your lips locking, the warm, soft feeling on one another. You deepen it by getting on your knees and unlocking only a few times to go back for more. 

Swapping saliva as your tongues tease each other. His hands travel to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Your plush thighs on either side, straddling him. “Hmph.” He breathes roughly after you nibble at his bottom lip. You go to apologize but he does it back. Making it fair. 

You grin into the make-out, grabbing onto him as you attempt to pull him even closer to your body. 

Your hips subconsciously roll back and forth across his crotch. His lap tenses at the motion but he doesn’t stop you. His arm is latched around your waist as the other is keeping himself along with you propped up. 

The further into the make out the more blood progresses to his boner. It’s now prominent enough for you to feel against your area. 

Arousing you both to a degree you’ve never felt before. The wetness of your juices soaking through your clothes. He swore he could feel your cunt spasm on him. He loved it. 

He wanted to feel more. With the arm that was around your waist he pushed you down gently enough you couldn’t even tell what he was doing. You moaned in his mouth at the pressure. 

Your head was beginning to feel dizzy at the lack of oxygen you were taking in from being too excited to breathe. You had to pull away from him to catch your breath. His chuckles at the sight of your flushed out face, lips plumped out even more, your hair slightly a mess. You were beautiful. 

“I need more.” You huffed out, lifting your hips up only to plop back down upon him. He gasps from the movement. “Yeah?” He asks with hooded eyelids, giving your body a once over as he leans back. “Mhm.” You nod your head and then all of a sudden your back was against the bed as Claggor was in between your legs. You squealed out, laughing. 

“I don’t have condoms on me.” He suddenly remembers, he goes to get up but you grab the hem of his shirt to stop him. “I’m on birth control.” You say, legs wrapping around his thighs since his waist wasn’t close to you anymore. He smiles eagerly, passionately kissing you. 

“Such a pretty girl.” He mutters in your mouth, pulling back. He takes his shirt off and you admire his body as he does so. He had muscle that showed but also such a soft adorned tone. You were obsessed. 

And if you weren’t wet before, you definitely were now. You followed suit though, throwing your shirt and bra over your head, throwing it to the ground. 

His eyes glued to your chest, a little too long in your opinion as you grew self-conscious. Covering yourself without realizing it. He takes your wrists, pulling them to your sides. “You’re too beautiful to be doing that.” He shakes his head. His hand touches your face, digits trailing down from your jaw to your neck… Lower now as he dances around your nipples before lightly pinching them. You whimper at the feeling causing him to smirk. “They’re sensitive?” He tilts his head and you quietly nod your head. 

He chuckles, now doing the same with the other one just to hear the little noises that exit your mouth. 

He innately rubs his crotch against yours, pushing up against you. You rut your hips up to meet him, wanting more. 

“Please, I want to feel you.” Your hands go to his shoulders, lightly prodding him away. “Alright, I guess I had my fun.” He sighs jokingly, he moves back a bit, repositioning lower on the bed. Once he gets comfortable laying on his stomach, face to face with your clothed pussy his fingers find the top of your shorts. He toys with you, heavily breathing at your core. You wanted to squish your legs together so he’d stop but you resisted. Finally after what felt like minutes to you he tugs your shorts and panties off of you. 

“I made you this drenched?” He satirizes, you frown, looking away from him. He snickers at your shy response. His pointer and middle finger pull your lips apart to get an even better view. It caught you off guard from the sudden coldness at your pussy. You gulped down your own saliva that built in your mouth. 

Claggor glances up at you as his own mouth watered. Impatient to taste you. His best friend that he had just confessed to. His best friend that likes him in return. He was so worried that you wouldn’t like him and now here you are letting him eat you out.

His tongue lays down flat in between your nub and entrance. His top lip above your clit. You felt his teeth rub against you and you wince in pleasure. And as his muzzle moves, so do you. You felt your body squirm as his movements were intense but so so so satisfactory. 

He somehow was paying attention to your clit and your achy hole at the same time. And to be honest he didn’t have a technique he just wanted to taste all your juices. 

His tongue slid into your hole for its last time before attaching your nub once again, this time it was for longer. His tongue swiped left and right to up and down. Writing his name at one point and then yours. He felt your thighs closing against his head and your body tensing up.

 “H-hah- holy shit, Clag… I’m gonna-” You breathed rapidly, grabbing hold of his short hair and practically yanking at it. He groans in slight pain but keeps his focus on you, only going faster. Your torso trembling upwards. “I’m- I’m cumminngh-guhhh!” You wail, accidentally pushing your hand down on his head, keeping him in place against your pussy. 

He doesn’t mind, he feels you twitch on his mouth. All your delicious sap flowing onto his tongue. Your hips rolling throughout your high. 

And as it was over all you could do was lay there, letting him go. It was one of your most intense orgasms you’ve had in a while. “Thank you.” He whispers as he gets up to kiss you. “I should be thanking you.” You pant out, his small hands wandering around his torso. 

“Mm agree to disagree.” He shrugs, pecking you once more. As his torso goes up your hands slide down back to the bed. He plays with his belt buckle, undoing it. Claggor gets off the bed, letting his pants fall. You eye his boxers that clung to his skin. The noticeable bulge that stuck out. You were ready yet again. 

Your own fingers go to your clit, it was now delicate to the touch but you still rubbed it slowly. When he sees you touching yourself he feels his cock jump in its barriers. “Restless so soon?” He beams. 

“I need you inside me.” You mewl, spreading your legs even further than before. And just at your movements his boxers were being kicked off his feet. You giggle as he climbs back on the bed. Your eyes stuck on his large member though. 

You figured he would be blessed but… blessed was definitely an understatement. You now worried if it would even fit inside you.

“Gosh, you’re too gorgeous for your own good.” He clamps his hand on your jaw, squishing your cheeks making your lips puckered out before he kisses you. As he leaned over his dick laid on your tummy. 

“You ready for me?” He quizzes your jaw still captured in his hold. “Yesh, scared ‘s too big thoughh.” You muttered through your squeezed cheeks. He snorts, not expecting that answer. “I promise it will fit. I’ll go slow.” He kisses you again before letting you go. 

Your eyes observe as he pumps his dick with his hand with his own spit. His mushroom tip slipping through your folds, hitting your clit a few times. “Are you sure you want this?” He looks you in your eyes. You smile at his question for consent, double checking even though you’ve already came once and pleaded for his cock. “I want this more than anything.” Your hand wraps around his wrist, helping him proceed into you. 

He hisses at the feeling of your gummy walls just being around his tip that leaked precum. Your chest heaved up and down with anticipation. “Keep going.” You encouraged with a nod of your head. He listens to your words, inching more and more inside. 

As he bottomed out you clamped around him, flinching at the string that you felt at first. Your face contorting slightly. “Are you okay?” His hand caresses your cheek. “Yes, one second though.” You stuck your pointer finger up, you swore you felt every crevice of his cock. He was huge. 

“Okay, okay…” You shiver out. “Start moving.” 

His hips move away before clicking right back. Your mouth opens at the feeling. Now keeping a steady pace. He grips at your waist, hearing your moans make him want to cum at the spot. Only being in your pussy for two minutes. 

“H-harder.” You claw him, trying to keep him as close as possible. Seeing this along with hearing your words his hands lift up your thighs around his shoulders and he presses down closer to you. Now in an anvil position. “Ohmygod!” You shriek, feeling him deeper than he was before. He fucks into you at a harder, faster pace. 

Your mouth letting babbles come out, words mashed together and not making any sort of sense. Claggor grunts in your ear each time his skin slaps against yours. Your toes curling above his head. 

“Fu-uck meee~” You cry, throwing your head back against the bed. The exhilaration, the adrenaline, the sex of it all filling Claggor’s mind to keep going. Hear your voice lighting a fire in his brain. No other thoughts. 

“Gonna cum soon, princess.” His thrusts grow sloppier. “Wa-wait! St… stop!” You cry out, his pelvis immediately hitting a halt against you at your singular word. “What? What happened? You okay? Did I hurt you?” He asks, forgetting what he had just said. 

You pause for a moment, taking a quick breather. “I um…” You puff, “want to ride you.” You tell him, propping yourself up on your elbows. He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding at your words. “Oh okay.” He grasps at his heart, calming down. “What?” You furrow your brows confused. 

“I mean, I’d love for you too but you scared me.” He slowly slides out of you, your pussy now clenching around nothing. 

“The way you said stop… I don’t know. I blanked.” He rubs the back of his sweaty neck. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t exactly get my words out.” You nervously laughed, reminding him of what he was just doing to you. His cheeks blush brighter, not because of embarrassment but because it made him a little proud of himself for pleasuring you so well. That’s all that mattered to him. 

You got up to your knees and you led him to sit down by the headboard. His back against the thousands of pillows you have on your bed. “Comfy?” You ask him with a closed eyed smile. He snickers, tugging at your waist to pull you closer to himself. “C’mere.” Was all he said.

You climb back onto his lap. His torso was leaned back so you had a good advantage when riding him. Your feet planted on either side of his hips. Your hands held onto his shoulders as you now stood over his dick. Your lick your lips, practically drooling at the sight. “Help me?” You glance up through your lashes. He smiles, using his left hand to keep his member up for you. 

You lower yourself down on him, excited to be filled back up. As your ass fully goes against his thighs you go back up then right back down all in slow movements. He watches as your pussy sucks him in each time again and again. 

Then you get bored of yourself, going faster, bouncing on him. Your tits are right in his vision. His hand grabs at both of them as his other is laid on his own stomach, keeping it to himself. 

“Too good, ‘s good.” You moan out, gripping his shoulders with each bounce. 

The stinging in your thighs were slightly bothering you but you had to keep going. One of your hands that held his shoulders went down to your clit. You rubbed it intensely. “Fuck!” You whisper out, he can tell you’re getting tired fast. He holds onto your hips, helping you go up and down. 

Still admiring the way you focus on getting to your release. And all he wants to do is help you get there. “Get on your knees.” He taps against your hips with his pointer finger. “Hu-huh?” You look at him confused. “Just do it.”

You let your feet slide backwards so you were now back on your knees. “There you go, more comfortable?” He asks sincerely. You only nod your head, not rolling your hips on him. He lifts his hips up and slides his body down so it would be more comfortable for him. 

You fuck yourself on him. “Ooh, I’m close.” Your voice rings out, Claggor hums in response, feeling his own orgasm coming. “Me too, where do you want me?” He asks, just so he knows before he cums. “Inside, don’t worry.” You pant.

“A-ah, cumming!’ Your nails accidentally dig into his biceps as you feel your release. The pain only brings him over the edge, his jaw slacking as his seed spurts inside you. 

You feel the warmness spread within you. Feeling his cock soften inside. You kiss at his chest before laying down on him. Keeping him in place with his dick still stuck within those fluttered walls. 

“Fucking hell, Claggor.” You spit out, his arms wrap around you. “You were amazing.” He mumbles. “No, you were.” You lift your head up at him. “That was insane!” You exclaim, accidentally jolting your hips causing him to hiss at the sensitive feeling. “Sorry.” You chuckle. 

“It’s okay.” He waves it off. He goes to help you get up but you stop him. “I want to stay like this for a little bit.” You tell him with a heated face. He raises a brow. 

“I was hoping for round 2… But I want to feel you grow inside me.” You quietly admit to him. Now it was his turn for his face to heat up.

Flushing as he now replays everything the two of you just did. And you get exactly what you wanted. 

[mellowsadistic]

"Mmmmmm!"

"You hush, little girl!" Veronica's mother snapped, bringing the hairbrush down again on her daughter's rapidly reddening backside. "And don't you glare at me like that! I am your mother, young lady, and you will learn to treat me with respect by the time your regression punishment is over!"

Veronica squealed behind her pacifier again as another stinging blow landed on her rear.

Over on the bed, Kylie mewled in fear around her own soother, knowing she'd be next over her auntie's knee. Why had she agreed to sneak out and go partying with her cousin? Her aunt had made it quite plain there was to be no drinking, smoking, or any other 'inappropriate' activities as long as she was living under her roof, but ever since she'd moved in to attend the nearby college, she'd been desperate for a bit of adult excitement.

"Bad girl, Ronnie!" Veronica's mother scolded, delivering swat after swat with the hairbrush. "Very bad girl! You are not a grown-up. I don't care if you're legally an adult! I decide when you get to grow up, not you!"

Kylie would've felt bad for her poor cousin, twenty-one years old and kicking her legs and crying over her mother's knee, if she wasn't more worried about her own hiney. Veronica had lived with those infantilizing rules, along with many others, her whole life. She wasn't even allowed to dress herself in the mornings! Her mother picked all her clothes for her, and she even had a number of outfits specifically designed for punishments, like the kind the two girls were wearing now...

"Six months under toddler rules, Ronnie! You know what that means!"

"Nnnnnn!"

"Yes, little girl! You will wear pull-ups at all times. No more using the toilet for tinkle! You will wet yourself the moment you feel the urge, and you will ask permission, politely, to be escorted to the potty to do your number twos when you need to go. You will wear childish clothes. You will go to bed at eight o' clock. And the same goes for you, young lady!"

Kylie wet her pants a little in fright as her auntie's head snapped around to look in her direction.

"Some time as a toddler ought to do my naughty little niece some good too!"

Kylie whimpered. She could feel the warm, slightly soggy padding pressing against her crotch. It was awful and disgusting and babyish, and the thought that it would become a familiar feeling, that she would be peeing herself every day for the next six months, not to mention being supervised on the toilet while she pooped, made her almost faint with embarrassment.

Veronica had started to bawl. Whatever dignity or resistance she'd tried to hold onto at the beginning of her spanking had gone, and she was left wailing like a little girl, her dummy dropping from her lips as she pleaded. "P'ease, Mama! I sowwy! P'ease dobbit! I be a goo' giwl! I p'omise!"

"You understand why I'm spanking you?" her mother asked, still raining down smacks with the hairbrush.

"Yes, Mama!" Veronica sobbed. Her pale bottom had turned a bright, sore red. "Ronnie was a bad giwl!"

"You admit you deserve to spend the next six months wetting yourself and being treated like a very little girl?"

"Yes, Mama! P'ease!"

"Alright then. Good girl." Veronica's mother lowered the hairbrush and helped her hiccupping daughter off her lap. "Go stand in the corner with your hands on your head. I have another little girl to deal with before I send you to bed."

Kylie started to suck her soother for comfort. Maybe she could talk her way out of this! Then her auntie turned to face her with a look that made her bladder control fail, and a stream of pee-pee flooded into her training pants.

"Your turn, missy. Over my lap. Now!"

[manachiichan]

Sailing against Fate

(Alabasta Saga)

Synopsis: If you want to survive on this world, you have to lean on to the strongest, to your luck, you somehow ended up with the Strawhats.

Pairing: Strawhat Pirates X Isekaid!Fem!Reader

Pre-Timeskip! This takes place during the Alabasta Arc. I planned on making this into a mini series with other scenarios.

|| One Piece Masterlist ||

|| Alabasta Saga Masterlist ||

|| Next Chapter||

It has to be a dream...

One moment ago, you were just studying for your college midterms and the next thing you knew, black spots covered your vision causing you to pass out on your desk. Well maybe passing out was your fault since you stayed up for a whole two days straight with nothing but caffeine to keep you energized.

But how did it comes to this?

"Oi...Are you dead?"

A pair of curious eyes poked your form the moment you started to wake up. A somehow familiar face greets you. Tan skin with a noticable scar on the lower left side of his eye and a straw hat. Unlike him, His crew had a look of suspicion as they surround the two of you.

'No way....'

How come you found yourself staring face to face with the Strawhat pirates?!

"What...?"

You can only gawked in shock. There in flesh were Luffy, Sanji, Nami, Zoro, Usopp, Vivi and Chopper. All staring back at you with a mixed of bewilderment and cautiousness.

"Where....Am I...?"

"Hey....Are you okay?! Stop that! Your hurting yourself!"

You questioned yourself, slightly distraughted.

Sweet Chopper got worried seeing how tightly you started gripping your hair with both of your hands. Because of his natural caring nature as a doctor, he immediately approached and grab your hands to stop you from hurting yourself further.

"Nooo! I can't take my exams now!"

Seeing that Vivi and Karoo are with the crew, you concluded that you were transported during the Alabasta arc. With Chopper already being there, that means that they had already been to Drum Island and are now on their way to stop the war brewing in the sand nation.

The Strawhats were somehow nice enough to let you stay with them for a while, although deep down, you knew it was because of seeing you in your most pathetic state.

Well most likely since you're a woman and Sanji is the type of man that will never deny a damsel in distress.

But ofcourse, you didn't want to end up on any of their bad side, and since they allowed you to stay with them, you decided to atleast try to be useful to help around the ship.

Only to find out that you have zero experience in managing a ship. You can't tie knots nor lift heavy equipments, Chopper had to help you out when the Going Merry's cannon accidentally fell on you.

All you could do was learn by observing others do their tasks, respectively.

Zoro was far more suspicious along with Usopp who was wary of you, so you couldn't ask any of them for any pointers. Nami, tried to teach you how to stir the ship but you somehow managed to get off course, so she had to step in, not after yelling at you ofcourse.

As much as Chopper helped you out whenever you were struggling, he was a bit too afraid to actually talk to you. And you like Sanji, but you hate how he treats you like a delicate and fragile glass to the point that he never let you help out whenever he's nearby.

Luffy and Vivi were the only ones who are normal around you. Luffy being somehow curious with your mannerism and weird habits. You were slightly glad that he was still the Luffy you knew in the show.

"Where did you came from, (Name)?"

He would often ask the most random questions about you. And whenever you answer, you could feel the eyes of the crew lingers your form.

"Some where really far away..."

"But I doubt that I can return back..."

You answered honestly. It had been a few days since you got sent into this world and you still don't understand how you managed to get here. You knew that you don't belong here, and without the Strawhats, you would probably be dead by now.

The Grandline is indeed a terrifying place, so you have to do what you must if you want to survive in this world.

Luckily for you, you read a few isekai mangas along with those popular korean manhwas back in your world. So with your One Piece knowledge, you have a slightly advantage of knowing what will happen next. However, you kept silent of that, as you were still trying to figure out what you were suppose to do.

In the world of pirates, a sane person would ask the crew to drop them off to a nearby island, however you were far from sane.

You are in the One Piece universe, how can you miss all those major event, nor miss the opportunity to meet some of your favorite characters.

There were two options for you, To become a pirate or marine. You did considered trying to join the revolutionary army, but you didn't like people bossing you around as you go on missions.

As much as you want to see the adorable Captain Koby as a marine, you weren't that keen to get beatened up by pirates. What if you meet those famous characters of the series, you'll definitely die.

So your only option is to become a pirate, being already on board the Going Merry. Besides, you doubt Luffy will let you go now that he has taken an interest on you, not that you know what he saw on you anyways.

You stayed up a few nights, trying to recall the future events that might happen soon. You wrote them down on a notebook that Nami gave you, not before giving you an interest of paying her back. She was slightly suprised on how you just smiled and told her that you'll somehow find the berries for it.

And now, your habit of not sleeping came back. It's like your studying your notes for an upcoming quiz again. You wrote down everything you remembered regarding the current arc you were in right now.

But first, you have to earn the crew's trusts. So you made a lot of effort to get to know them.

Their personalities were still the same like how it is on the series. There was also somethings that weren't mentioned yet you were able to notice small details while being around them.

Whenever Luffy goes feral at the sight of meat, he would let out small growls when someone approached him. It became noticeable whenever he's really hungry.

You were never a threat, Zoro saw that. You were just a weird helpless woman who somehow just ended up in their ship. Surely he was cautious around you, but seeing how you trip on your own two feet made him rethink of his assumptions that you were a spy sent by baroque works.

"Please...! Teach me how to fight...!"

At your most desperate tone, you plead Zoro to train you. If you have to survive, then you need to learn how to fight.

"Worry not, Mademoiselle! For I shall be there to protect you from those filthy trolls that dares to lay a even a finger on your delicated skin...!"

Sanji straight up told you with hearts on his eyes as he fawn over you having him as your Prince charming on a white horse. You won't learn anything from him.

"Sorry, (Name). I'm not exactly an adept brawler like Sanji, Luffy or Zoro."

"Fighting is not really my expertise. Just ask the guys about it."

Nami and Usopp aren't really much of a fighter, so they wouldn't be able to help that much. And Luffy is out of the question.

"Fighting? Just throw hard punches like this! Oh wait, you can't stretch..."

As much as you like Luffy, his fighting style is a bit too reckless for your liking and you doubt that he can teach you without getting side tracked.

And you can't just ask Vivi, like Nami, she's more of a dictator rather than a fighter. Surely she can fight, but you doubt using whip like weapons is fit for you.

So Zoro was your last hope. Watching anime for as long as you can remember, swords is something you were familiar of and You always wanted to learn how to use a sword, and Zoro being a skilled swordsman could maybe teach you a thing or two to atleast defend yourself.

"If you're asking for my help, you must have a good reason. But why should I help you..?"

Zoro was still wary of you, yet you can see that he was less hostile than he was when you first ended up at Going Merry's deck.

"Unlike any of you guys here, I'm the most vulnerable...! I'll die the moment the Navy or another pirate ship appears!"

Okay, you could have sworn that you sounded and look like another Usopp in his eyes.

"If you're serious about learning to fight, you'll have to prove your dedication. Show me you're worth the effort, and maybe, just maybe, I'll consider teaching you a thing or two."

Zoro was dead serious. But it also look like he's willing to teach you how to weild a sword if your resolve was strong enough.

"I'll do it! I want to learn how to defend myself. I can't rely on you guys all the time."

Seeing him suddenly grin, you knew you were about to experience hell.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my gf's son not to call me dad?

I (22M) have been dating my gf (24F) for 4 years now. She has a 7 year old whose dad isn't in the picture anymore - he hasn't been since the kid was born. My gf says he was abusive and I think there are some charges against him but as far as I know, nothing was proven. He has other kids too who he does have a relationship with but he doesn't have custody rights with my gf's son so they hasn't been allowed to have a relationship.

My gf and I live together and are both in college. I am going to be a surgeon and she wants to study science but she hasn't decided what to do with it yet. Because we're both busy with that, her son doesn't live with us full time. He stays with her parents during the week. This means that we have to dedicate our weekends to looking after the kid. I didn't really mind this at first but her parents are really pushing for her to look after him during the week now too, which we don't have time for. I hear how that doesn't sound great but the plan has always been that her parents will take care of the kid until she finishes with school. She has classes for 4+ hours from Mon-Thurs, plus she needs to spend a few hours studying every day, then she has labs on Friday for most of the day. I have classes all week for fewer hours each day but next semester I'll probably be doing an internship so I'll have more work to do. Then we pick up her kid on Friday evenings and spend the whole weekend with him. There's hardly any time for us to spend time alone together. I like her son and he's usually fun to have around but both of us are obviously stressed from having no down time so most weekends my gf and her son get into an argument or something and things escalate. I try not to get involved when that happens. Sometimes my gf and I are the ones who end up arguing and in that case, I usually go to my parents house.

Basically, I'm not super involved with the kid. Her parents want us to spend all of our free time on parenting despite originally agreeing that it was better if my gf focused on school. He has a dad who could probably be more involved but my gf and her family don't want him around. I've suggested that maybe it would be a better solution for her son to live with his dad full time, that way she can focus on school and then her career and still have time for herself and for us. I love her but she doesn't really have maternal instincts and she doesn't actually want kids, she has said a lot that she regrets not giving him up for adoption.

Recently, we were out for dinner with my gf's sister and kid, and the kid called me his dad. He's done this a lot and usually I just kind of ignore it, but no one else corrected him this time and I felt like the kid deserved the truth. I asked him then and there not to call me dad because he has a real dad who probably wouldn't like it. He didn't seem upset by it but my gf's sister lost it. She thinks I don't want the kid around and that I'm the reason my gf doesn't spend more time with him. She also thinks this was the first time my gf's son heard about his bio dad. Total conjecture, but she won't hear my side of it. The kid knows I havent been around since he was born so he obviously knows someone else must be his dad. I told my gf I don't think it's fair to let the kid call me dad when he has a real dad out there and she sort of agrees. She told her son not to call me dad anymore and they had a long talk about it. She still doesn't want the real dad involved but that's a whole other battle.

Here's why I think I might be the asshole: I said this to the kid in a moment of annoyance, which probably wasn't the way to bring it up. Like I said, he didn't seem upset by it but I wasn't there for the longer conversation so I don't know exactly. I think he's old enough to be allowed to know about his real dad in a more serious way. It's kind of messed up that he could run into his dad in the street (we live in a pretty small town) and wouldn't know it. I'm not his dad and for the foreseeable future, I won't be responsible for him as a parent because he still lives with his grandparents. I think it's reasonable to say that he shouldn't call me dad. So, AITA?

[ciy0]

☆*:.｡.ONLY YOU.｡.:*☆

Summary - The one where Mingyu is inlove with his sweet friend y/n and copes by using other women to fill the you shaped hole in his heart.

Word Count - 1.4k

Content Warning - 18+ Sexual Content and Vulgar Language, Fem!Reader, Implied College Au, One Siding Pining[or is it], Twist at the End, Rosé and Wonwoo are in here, Mingyu’s Morals are Questionable, So is the Reader’s, Mingyu was A Hoe, Rough Sex, Jacking off, Obsessive!Mingyu, Argument & Breakup

a/n - i have to give props to @bvbysita because their posts have been keeping me up at night oml i can’t stop thinking about them, it definitely was in mind while i wrote this ahh (￣∇￣) i am a simple woman and i must give credit for the inspiration ☆彡

☆*:.｡.o .｡.:*☆

“You know you’re so obvious?” Wonwoo asked suddenly as he passed by Mingyu in their shared kitchen.

Mingyu arched a brow, “Hello to you too, about what hyung?,” He asked while offering a spoon to him to taste the Alfredo mixture he was currently working on.

“First I thought it was just a coincidence that they had the same eyes,” Wonwoo started after trying the concoction, “needs more salt— then another had the same lips, the next having the same nose...”

“Hyung what are you going on about?,” Mingyu brows furrowing in confusion as he reached for the seasoning cabinet.

“But it really clicked when you introduced me to your current girlfriend Rosé,” Wonwoo finalized, “She has the same exact beauty mark on her face… the same one Y/n has.”

There was a beat of silence, Mingyu pausing slightly before actually opening the cabinet, “We’re just good friends Hyung, Y/n’s not the only one allowed to have certain features you know… it’s just a coincidence-“

“Was it a coincidence when I heard you moan her name last night too?”

“ - And what are you doing, spying on me now?” Mingyu shot back, lisp slightly appearing. He chose to focus his sight back on the pasta instead of giving into his hyungs ruthless prying. His breath coming a bit heavier at being put on the spot.

Wonwoo decided to calm down on his assault seeing the agitation in the younger one’s shoulders, “…Does she know?”

Mingyu couldn’t help but laugh bitterly, “She’s fucking oblivious…”

You that is. The girl of his dreams who never once looked his way. Side stepping all his advances, treating him like you treated everyone else. What was he to do? Maybe it was childish how he subconsciously searched for any glimpse of you in all the girls who approached him. Running through women like a marathon because none of them were the original. The original didn’t want him how he wanted her. So weak as the man he is he let counterfeits fill the place reserved for you.

It was wrong though, he knew his exes and current girlfriend didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve to be compared, didn’t deserve to have their faces coldly smushed in his pillows so he could imagine the curvature of their backs to be yours instead. Large hand muffling their moans in slight frustration because he knew you wouldn’t sound like that. Knew you’d sound prettier—lovelier. Jacking off pathetically in his hand after curtly sending them home, free hand scrolling desperately through innocent pics of you he cropped from group photos kept tucked away in his phone. It’s what he did last night after Rosé [begrudgingly] left.

He blatantly saw the hesitancy in her movements as she gathered her things, probably hoping he’d finally ask her stay the night only to be met with a quick “night babe” and a swift kiss to the cheek. He knew he should’ve tried harder — harder to get over you. Harder to invest himself more in his relationships instead of using them for a short moment of companionship but it became so involuntary. And he’d see the heartbreak in their eyes when they’d ultimately meet you. Seeing the adoring side of himself that they desperately wanted for themselves all spent on you. Running back and forth on your beck and call, dropping everything to come to your aid like a loyal puppy. Usually shortly after that display his exes would give him an ultimatum and seeing as they’re no longer together his answer came too easy.

“You know Rosé is in love with you,” Wonwoo reminded as he made his way to their living room with a sigh. “It’s better to cut it off now before things get messy.”

Mingyu chose not to reply because he fucking knew that already. Out of all his exes she was the closest he got to moving on. He knew how much she loved him, it was clear with how she looked at him and she was great, got along with his friends well, kind to his family, easy on the eyes… but you—you were amazing, his friends adored you, his family treated you like their own, you were the most beautiful woman he’d even seen and— Fuck just like that he compared you guys again.

He finished up the pasta, lost in his thoughts before serving Wonwoo his plate and joining him in the living room. They fell into a relaxed conversation on something different than the charged one from before. Mid-sentence he felt his phone ding in his sweatpants pocket. It was from you. You never texted him first like this and he couldn’t stop the flip his heart did. He excused himself to head to his bed room, clicking facetime as he climbed into his bed.

“Ya,” Was the first thing he heard once you accepted, “Don’t you know how to text sir?” You pouted playfully, “You always facetime me so abruptly, what if i looked a mess?! Just text like a normal person. ”

He couldn’t help but longingly smile at your nagging. No, he wanted any excuse to see your pretty face. You? Look like a mess? Never. Not possible. “It’s easier to just talk plus i missed you cutie” He flashed his canines as he threw an arm behind his head.

You rolled your eyes, “ You saw me at Cheol’s frat party literally the other day but anyways I have a question,” now back on topic your countenance dimmed a bit, “I-Is everything okay with you and Rosé?”

He instantly sat up at the sudden change in mood and inquiry. “Hey hey look at me, what’s wrong?” His thumb brushed against the screen, “We’re fine, why did you hear anything? Y/n look at me”

You bit your lip unsurely, “She messaged me… she told me to stay away? She blamed me for the issues in your relationship?” Your slightly damp lash line at the supposed claim caused his chest to squeeze painfully. “I-I thought you both were doing well, i’m so confused Gyu—“

Mingyu’s eye involuntarily twitched at this nugget of information. But in the moment he chose consoling you over confronting Rosé. He cooed softly at you, calming your worries, “Shhh don’t worry about that, I’ll talk to her but i need you to smile for me first baby— need to know you’re okay. Don’t cry.”

You gave him a wobbly smile, nodding your head as he showered you with praises to ease your mind. You blamed yourself for how angry she was, you didn’t know what you possibly did for her to spew such nasty things at you but Mingyu’s comforting purrs helped cheer you up.

Once he was sure enough that you calmed down enough he ended the call with a “go relax baby, i’ll come by in a bit” and a tender eye smile before immediately dialing Rosé number, expression darkening.

She picked up on the first ring, “Hi baby! What’s-“

“What the hell is your problem?!” he chided abruptly. “How could you talk to Y/n like that?! She’s been nothing but kind to you.”

“Wh-What? Mingyu, what are you talking about, I never-“

“Don’t fucking lie to—,” he shut his eyes trying to simmer himself down, “Listen let’s just end it here, okay? You were a nice girl but we both know we weren’t progressing any further than this. Don’t come around anymore, bye.”

Rosé was speechless. She checked her messages and there was nothing recently sent to Y/n— what was going on? She tried to cut in to clear her name but she was met with the sound of an ended call. When she tried texting you her messages wouldn’t send. Did you—

She grabbed her things to rush over to your dorm to verify if what she dared to think be true. She missed the familiar parked car she’d been in too many times to count in her frazzled state once she reached your building. Catching her breath she reached to bang on your door just to freeze at the deep voice she jus heard on the phone a bit earlier from the other side.

“Fuuckkk Y/n, you feel amazing. I-I’m so glad you feel the same way. Do you know how long i waited for this huh? I love— fuck you’re such a dream— i love you so fucking much baby. Gonna love on you all night, yeah? None of them could come close, not even a little— don’t haaah don’t hide your moans from me pretty girl. Need to hear them, god-”

Wet smacks and smooches, desperate moans, violent squeaks coming from your cheap college mattress and between them all breathy declarations of love surrounded Rosé’s eardrums as she fell to the ground gasping into her palm in utter defeat.

[jazzyoranges]

Wants and Needs

Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: Wednesday gets jealous. she pegs you for funsies

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: g!p reader, pegging, strap-on (R receiving), anal, rimming (dw you wash your ass), overstimulation, possessive Wednesday, spanish/italian pet names and phrases, implied werewolf!R, Weds calls you puppy a lot, implied breeding kink, probably ooc Wednesday

Minors DNI!!!

“Cucciola.”

“Wednesday? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Home. Need… need you now.” Wednesday stumbles into your chest, wrapping her arms around you waist

“Love, how much have you had to drink?”

“D-Doesn’t matter.” The Addams practically growls into your shoulder

“We can’t do anything while you’re intoxicated, Wednesday. C’mon, le-“ your girlfriend pulls you into a searing kiss. She tugs at the nape of your neck, forcing you to grab at her waist to steady yourself

You faintly taste bourbon on her lips as she squeezes the skin just above your pants. Wednesday’s kisses are filled with lust, and something else you can’t exactly pinpoint. When your girlfriend finally pulls away, your lips are swollen due to Wednesday not-so-casually biting them every few seconds. She pulls you into another kiss, and you can’t help but follow her lead

The loud music, the lights, the dancing people, you had no idea why Wednesday even decided to go to a college party in the first place. That said, you’re getting a horny girlfriend out of the experience, so who can really complain? Definitely not you that’s for sure

“W-Wednesday…” You mumble into her lips

“Do you know how long that vampire has been looking at you?” She whispers but somehow you can hear her over the noise You try to turn away to scan your surroundings but Wednesday takes your chin in her hand so your attention is only on her

“She doesn’t deserve your gaze, puppy. Only I am allowed to look at you with lustful eyes.”

“I only have my sights on you, Wednesday,” you kiss her cheek “I promise I’d never look at another woman like how I look at you”

“Infidelity is not something I worry about in our relationship. Perhaps I should carve out her brain so she’ll never be able to have another inappropriate thought about you…” Wednesday mutters the last sentence to herself, but you start getting worried. If both of you don’t leave instantly the night will definitely end in blood. And not the kinky kind

“How about we go home, my love? Maybe a party wasn’t the best of ideas, I apologize”

“No, no. This night has given me the opportunity for me to truly claim you as mine.”

“Alright, let go home now, darling” You sling Wednesday’s arm around your shoulder, leading her to the exit of the apartment. You don’t notice the nasty glare she gives to the vampire

It takes… a considerable amount of time for Wednesday to walk down the 2 flights of stairs considering her stumbling. You opt to carry her halfway down the first set of stairs. Luckily you didn’t park too far from the apartment

You didn’t think it took too long to get to your shared apartment, but a certain Addams definitely had different ideas when she pushed you against the door with lust in her eyes

“Bedroom, now.” Wednesday mumbles in between bites to your neck

“My love, you-“

“You asked me to be your girlfriend on October 15th, 3:24am. I am sober enough to make love to you, cara mia.” Your girlfriend continues to bite and lick your neck, slowly guiding you to your shared bedroom

Wednesday doesn’t waste any time taking off your pants and boxers, revealing your erect penis. You were far too into being dominated than you’d like to admit. Only looking away for a second to take off your shirt, Wednesday already had a black strap-on attached to her hips

Stroking the faux cock with lube, your breath hitches at the sheer length and thickness of it

…Did Wednesday always have that?

“A-Aren’t you going to prep me first?”

“Hm, I’m sure you can take it raw, mi sol.” Your girlfriend presses a kiss to a quickly forming hickey on your neck

“But I suppose I could humor you.” Before you know what’s happening, Wednesday’s tongue is in your ass, and you don’t know how to feel about it

All uncertainties leave your head when she replaces her tongue with a finger. The sensation is new to you and it sends shivers up your spine when she starts to thrust, making you let out an almost pornographic moan. Wednesday enjoys how you’re clenching around her

One finger turns into two and you’re practically in heaven. Usually you were the one that did most of the moving, but having your very hot girlfriend fuck you in a place you’d never been fucked was absolutely melting your brain

“You’re ready, cucciola.”

“W-Wednesday!” You whimper when your girlfriend lifts up your hips and makes you hook your knees around her hips. Sometimes you forget short people can be strong

“Mi sol, tan asombrosa.” Wednesday eases herself into your asshole, and you practically sing at the intrusion. She watches your eyes roll in satisfaction with the tiniest smile on her face. The Addams should’ve indulged in her fantasies much sooner

You were a mess, to say the very least. You were happy with being a service top. Pleasing Wednesday, it made you happy knowing your girlfriend felt good. But this… this was a new sensation you’d love to get used to. If this was Wednesday’s way of slutting you out it was most definitely working

Truly, the Addams wished she could feel the silicone cock being squeezed by your tight asshole. But alas, your noises and reactions were enough to calm Wednesday’s nerves about the party. Only she was able to turn you into a moaning whore. Her slow thrusts became faster, and you’re basically a bumbling whimpering mess when your hole clenches around her cock

Perhaps this was what Wednesday felt when you topped. You’ve never felt so fucking full in your life. Her dick was practically incinerating your guts in the best way possible. To make make matters worse, you felt a familiar feeling bubble up in your lower stomach when Wednesday started to stroke your drooling cock while fucking your ass with even more fervor

The next words Wednesday utters make tears prick at your eyes

“Hold it, puppy.”

“Wednesday, please…” You whine with no avail

“Hold it.” Your girlfriend roughly slaps your ass, leaving a red mark. When you moan she does it again. And again. And again until you’re on the edge of crying. From the pleasure? From the pain? You can’t really tell over the stench of sex wafting around your shared room

Thankfully your girlfriend isn’t fully evil like she thinks

“Cum for me, cara mia.”

Doing as she says, long ropes of cum release from your hardened cock. You’ve never cum so much in your life, and you don’t want to admit that you’re a little disappointed it’s being put to waste on your stomach instead of in your beautiful girlfriend

Wednesday notices this, deciding to lap up the copious amounts of cum off your stomach. After the mind-blowing orgasm you just had, all you wanted to do was return the favor. You try to get up but unfortunately Wednesday pushes you down

“This is about you, mi sol.” The Addams sighs at the salty taste of your cum. When she’s finished, you wipe the excess off her chin and take a taste for yourself

“Thank you, Wednesday.” You bring your girlfriend closer to you, cuddling into her naked chest while pulling the blankets over your shoulders

“Qualsiasi cosa per te, tesoro mio.” Wednesday leaves a kiss on your forehead as you drift off to sleep

—

cucciola - puppy

mi sol, tan asombrosa - my sun, so amazing

cara mia - my darling

qualsiasi cosa per te, tesoro mio - anything for you, my darling

(all google translated, pls cut me some slack lol)

[yandere-paramour]

hi! i was reading your blog for quite a while, and wanted to say that i really enjoy reading things you write!! thank you so much, it gives me pretty much comfort during study days (hope that didn't sound weird)

anyway what are your thoughts on Darling who is in her 20s and still a uni student? (maybe some Atalanta headcanons... she is my fav)

No, I know EXACTLY what you mean, I'm clawing myself through grad school right now and I NEED my yandere accounts to keep me sane on those days when you have to lock in and study 6 hours. I'm really glad you like my writing, it makes me so happy that I am reaching people :)

Atalanta with a College Student

Of course, Ata takes you the second she finds you. She just can't help herself, she has to have her love near her

But after all your kicking and screaming and begging her not to interrupt your studies, she relents

The Montclairs highly prize education, and even though Atalanta wants you, she doesn't want to ruin your degree over it; she really doesn't want you to hate her

And you're so young, she doesn't want to ruin your university experience because of her own needs

So you and she decide on a compromise

You can stay at university and will continue to go to classes and be a good Darling, and in return she gets to be in your life

You will move into a safe apartment she picks for you with one of her trusted bodyguards, and they guard will accompany you (discretely) everywhere you go, for your own safety

Atalanta will come see you several times a week to get to know you and eventually you will graduate, she will become your girlfriend, and she will marry you

You, having no choice if you want to keep even a little freedom, agree

The apartment is gorgeous. No one will tell you the exact price but you can tell it is expensive. Everything is clean and modern, and you have a bedroom and an office to yourself. Atalanta says your areas for sleeping and working should be separate for your health

The guard is a really nice woman who basically watches over you, and it feels refreshing to go about your day unconcerned that anyone will harass or kidnap you

You never have to cook or clean, and anything you even mention wanting shows up at your apartment the next day

Atalanta even allows you to go out and have fun, provided you take the guard with you and you don't engage in any substances (which you weren't interested in anyway)

You have lots more time to study and sleep and engage in your hobbies, and you're eating better than you have since you were a toddler

The only thing you're unsure about is Atalanta

Four times a week you come home to find her sitting at your kitchen table, quietly working on documents while she waits for you

She always greets you with a smile and a hug, and you can't help but admit her hugs are warm and comforting

She asks about your day and eats with you, choosing to spend the evening doing whatever you want

She seems to be just happy to spend life in your presence, looking at you like you are the sun in the sky

She never overstays her welcome, she always knows when you're overwhelmed and you need her to leave.

She gently and chastely kisses your cheek and bids you goodbye, having a short word to your guard that you can't hear

You don't know how you feel about her

She's striking and thoughtful you certainly have some complicated feelings for her you try to work out underneath your blankets, but you're still a kid and you don't know if you're really ready for something like this

She's a beautiful, intelligent, queer CEO of a company that runs your city, and you're just... you. You don't know if you're really worthy of standing by her side.

In the car, Ata frowns at the sight on her phone. Her precious Darling is feeling... unloved? Undeserving? Inadequate? Ata won't stand for it.

A few texts to Noelle and Ata has arranged to take you out for dinner next week where she will present you with a promise ring, a symbol of her earnest devotion to you and her commitment to make you hers as soon as you graduate.

"Just you wait, Darling," Ata whispers to your visage on her phone as you blink your tears back, "Just a little longer. I'll make it all better soon."

[lesbianpepsi]

Fuck it I love you

pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

summary: When paired with Tara Carpenter for a project you were expecting a B or maybe even an A. Not falling in love with Tara's older sister, Sam.

series masterlist

words: 2.320k

warnings: mean sam, light swearing, reader being down bad for our sammy, bad writing

authors note: alright my darlings the first chapter to the sam mini series as promised. the wonderful anon who requested this, my dear i am so sorry it took so long for me to get to this. although it's taken a while, i do hope you still enjoy this! feedback and comments are greatly appreciated:)

The wonders of college. 

You get to meet new people, explore your sexuality, party like there’s no tomorrow, try new things and staying up till three in the morning  crying over a piece of work that’s due that very morning that you decided to wait till the last minute to do only to instantly regret it, saying you’ll never do the same mistake next time but  knowing deep down inside you will. 

And of course the trials and tribulations of group projects. Something everyone loathed, and if anyone said otherwise they’re lying. 

You have never been a fan of group projects; so when your professor announced that you’ll be doing a pair project you couldn’t tell if you wanted to slap him or cry. Probably both. The absolute worst thing about projects that involve more than one party member is awkwardly asking a stranger if they’re willing to work with you.

That’s why when you heard that familiar sweet voice speak to you, you couldn’t help but smile. 

“You cool with doing this together?” Tara Carpenter asked you with a nervous smile. 

You and Tara aren’t exactly friends, more like acquaintances; if one missed a presentation the other would give them their notes to copy off of, saving a seat next to each other, saying hello if you ever see each other around campus. 

It isn’t the fact you don’t want to be friends with Tara, she seems like a really kind woman but she’s quite distant and quiet. You can’t judge her or shame her for it since you’re shy, awkward and always in a state of anxiety. 

Maybe this would be the push to make you and Tara become friends. 

You smile at the brunette with an appreciative gleam in your eyes. “Please. I was already planning a speech on why the professor should allow me to do this alone.” Tara laughs, covering her mouth with her hand as the corner of her eyes crinkled with delight. 

“Lucky for me then.” Tara stays silent for a few moments before she added. “Do you wanna just get the whole awkward phone exchange now?” 

You chuckled, nodding your head as you dug out your phone from the pocket of your hoodie, unlocking it and passing it over to her. Tara stares between and your phone almost bewildered with the fact you just passed your phone over to her without hesitation, rather than just saying your number. 

She slowly takes your phone and adds her phone number into your contacts texting herself before passing it back to you. You smiled at her as you pocketed your phone back into its original space of your pocket. 

___________

A few days have passed ever since you and Tara exchanged phone numbers but no plans had been made on when you two should start. You refused to leave this till the last second like you’ve done so many times before, swallowing your nerves you unlock your phone and send Tara a message.

Me (11:32am): hey tara it’s y/n from class, i was wondering what day we can meet to start our project. i was thinking we could meet in the library whenever you can :) 

Instantly you shut your phone off after the message is delivered; there always has been something so weirdly intimidating about messaging someone you don’t really know. Deciding to distract yourself you go make yourself a sandwich for lunch, leaving your phone in your room. 

After two episodes of New Girl and a delicious sandwich had been eaten you returned to your room in search of your phone. Flopping down on your bed you grab your phone and see Tara has messaged you back.

Tara (12:15pm): hi y/n:) if you’re free we can meet today to get started on our project? the only issue is that i can’t come to the library

Me (12:23pm): im more than good with today!! :D

Me (12:23pm): do you wanna come over to my apartment then??

Tara (12:24pm): actually is it alright if you come over to my apartment, around half two?

Me (12:24pm): yeah idm, just as long as we start it lol. where do you live?

Tara (12:28pm): the apartment complex near Blackmore, apartment number 56

Me (12:28pm): okie dokie, see you soon :D 

Tara (12:29pm): 😊👍

You grinned to yourself slightly proud you’ve decided to be smart and start this project early. You just hoped the actual planning of the project would go just as smoothly. 

___________

At two you decided to leave your apartment, wearing a simple white shirt along with some mom jeans. Not even ten minutes into your walk it began pouring down with rain, leaving you sprinting towards the complex as your heavy backpack hit your bag with every step. 

Slamming the double door entrance to the apartment complex open, you instantly gasp for breath as water drips off of every part of you. 

How fucking typical. 

You pull out your phone and with wet fingers you send Tara a quick message before slowly starting to walk up the stairs. 

By the second floor you started to get tired, by the third you began wondering why the fuck there isn’t an elevator in this place, by the fourth you’re questioning your life choices and by the time you arrive on the fifth floor you’re breathing like a life long smoker who just ran towards the store after noticing they’re out of cigarettes.

Like a zombie you walk over to the apartment door with the number ‘56’ on it, sluggishly you raise your hand and knock on the door two times.

After a painstakingly long time a woman answers the door, and you’re pretty sure your heart explodes at the sight of her. 

She’s got olive skin that looks so irresistibly smooth, dark brown eyes that glared at you, she’s around the same height of you if not maybe a bit taller. She’s leaning against the door frame as she’s only opened the door a small amount so her figure could be shown. 

Her lips are pulled in a tight straight line as her arms crossed over her stomach, the tight grey vest top she’s wearing showing off her impressive biceps. She’s glaring at you with her cold eyes as she glowers down at you. 

“Who are you?” She asks in a voice that is ever so raspy, her eyes gazing up and down your body. Your ears burn scarlet red at her eyes checking you out as you stare at her in awe. “I’m, uhm, Tara’s project partner. Y/n L/n.” You stutter out as you can feel your heart beating erratically in your chest. 

If this isn't gay panic you don’t know what is. 

“Why are you so wet?” She questions with judging eyes.

‘Cause of you

“It started raining after I left my apartment and I didn’t bring a coat.” You explained with a nervous smile as you locked eyes with the woman’s. 

She hummed as she turned to look behind her, after a few seconds the door opened wider and Tara appeared next to the woman, the height difference between the two almost making you laugh.

Tara smiled a small smile to you before it faded and changed into shocked one. “You’re soaked.” She states in a matter of fact way. You laugh nervously as you nod your head, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “Started raining on the way here.” 

She frowned concerned as she took a step back, allowing you to enter, while the older woman still stayed in the doorway, glaring daggers at you. You swallowed nervously as Tara glared at the woman. “Sam, she's fine, don't be a bitch.” 

Sam

Sam stares at you for a while before she reluctantly leaves the doorway and back into the apartment, you smile at Sam’s behaviour as you turn to look at Tara.

“Sorry about her, she's just really protective over me.” Tara apologises with a smile as you enter the apartment, closing the door behind you. 

As you get a good view of the apartment you notice two other people talking to Sam, you've seen them around Blackmore.

The three of them are glaring at you as they whisper among each other. When they notice you’re looking at them they silence, all silently staring back at you.

Without thinking, you wave your hand at them as you smile. “Hi, I’m Y/n. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you two before around campus.”

Tara doesn’t allow you to say more as her slender fingers wrap around your wrist as she drags you towards the dining table, your eyes remained on her beautiful sister Sam.

“I'll get you a towel, you prepare.” Tara tells you with a smile before taking off. You nod your head as you do as she said, take off your backpack and take out everything from inside it and place it onto the table.

Tara thankfully returns a few minutes later with a towel and a dry hoodie, she passes them over to you.

“You can borrow the hoodie if you want since your shirt is more than less see through.” She says with an amused laugh, you look down at blush at the fact it’s quite obvious you’re wearing a black bra.

“Thank you.” You tell her with an embarrassed laugh as you shamelessly take off your shirt and throw it into your bag before putting on the hoodie. It's warm and slightly too big for you, but you don’t mind it. 

Grabbing the towel you place it under you, making sure you wouldn’t utterly soak the chair from the rain on your pants.

She gives a smile before she begins talking about her plans on what you two could do, stretching to reach the notebook full of notes you had brought with you. 

You tried listening to Tara, you truly did, but not even five minutes after Tara had begun talking Sam had entered the kitchen to make a drink.

Suddenly every word Tara uttered it went into one ear and flew right through the other. 

Her back faced you as she grabbed the glass from the top cabinet, not even having to go on the tip of her toes to reach it, something the shorter Carpenter would definitely have to do.

You smiled without noticing the longer you gazed at the gorgeous woman as she carried on making her drink. 

“Y/n.” 

You snapped your head back at Tara who had her eyebrows raised. “Did you listen to anything I said?”

Sam turned to look at the both of you as she leaned against the counter, sipping her drink. Her eyes focused on you as she drank at a slow pace.

You smiled nervously at her to which Sam only scowled back at you. 

“Yeah, uhm, work and stuff right?” You waffled with a smile, Tara simply sighed as she shook her head. She went to say something but got interrupted by her older sister.

“Is that my hoodie?” Your head whips back towards Sam’s direction, Sam’s eyes focused on you. You blushed as you noticed Tara and let you borrow McHottie’s Sam's hoodie, not hers.

Your fingers toyed with the bottom of the hoodie nervously, before you could reply with utter gibberish Tara answered over you. “I let her borrow it since she was completely soaked.” She explained with a brief tight smile.

Sam hummed as she dropped the glass onto the counter. “But why give my hoodie to her? Why not yours?” 

“Because It was closest to me, Sam. Jesus she isn’t going to do anything so calm down.” Tara defended you in an annoyed tone now, her eyes glaring at Sam as she leaned on her hand. “And tell Chad and Mindy to cut it out with the staring.” 

“I can give it back if you’d like?” You gingerly asked. Both of the girl’s heads snapped towards you at your words. 

“You don’t have to-” Tara started before Sam interrupted her speedily 

“Yes. Give it back.” She demanded, pushing herself off the counter as she advanced towards you. Without hesitation you ripped the hoodie off of you, pulling it over your head quickly as your shirt rolled up with it.  

You smiled sweetly at her as you passed her the hoodie with your right hand, your left hand not so subtly pulling down your shirt. Her fingers grazed over your knuckles as she retrieved the jumper from your hand, her eyes ogling at your shirt momentarily. 

Her eyes connected with yours again as she pulled the hoodie to her side, she glowered over you as you looked up at her with a nervous smile. 

She’s so fucking pretty, oh my fucking-

“Don’t give my stuff out again, Tara.” Sam told her sister as her eyes stayed glued to yours, “Sure, whatever, will you just leave now?” Tara says with annoyance clear in her tone, Sam stared at you for a few more seconds before she fulfilled her sister’s wish by leaving the kitchen silently. 

Your eyes followed her leaving until she was out of your sight. Your eyes landed on the glaring twins to which you smiled awkwardly at them before you returned your attention back to Tara. 

The shorter girl huffed as she flicked through a few pages of a notebook. “Sorry about her, she’s just really protective over me.” She apologised again.

You smiled dreamily at her as you thought more of the older sister. “You don’t have to apologise, it’s actually kinda sweet.” 

Tara gives you a funny look as she snorts a laugh, her fingers finally stopping as she lands on the particular page she was looking for. “You must be delusional if you think Sam is sweet.” 

Guess I’m delusional then, you thought with a smile as your eyes gazed over the half full glass Sam had left in the kitchen. 

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

okay...here goes...

(I wish you would write) a modern short au about Violet as a celebrity or princess or something, and Xaden as her bodyguard🤭🤭🫶

Okay I'm cheating a little on this one because I have something like this in my drafts already!! This was actually one of @skyfallscotland's prompt fics in which Lilith was the US President, and after a failed assassination attempt on the campaign trail, she assigns Xaden to be Violet's body guard. For reasons I hope are obvious, I don't want to finish it anymore. However, the first chapter was done in it's entirety by the time I scrapped it, so you can have 2.3k ish words of body guard Xaden!! (below the cut)

When Violet gets a knock on her door, she is not expecting it to have anything to do with her mother. The entire reason she’d gone to college in California was so that anything having to do with her mother would be a country away. And for the most part, it had worked. Her freshman and sophomore years had gone off without a hitch. In her classes that aren’t 99% poli sci majors, she doesn’t even get recognized, and she couldn’t be happier. 

She abandons her spot on the couch, and sets her planner to the side as she stands to answer the door. She doesn’t bother checking the peep hole, because she assumes it’s doordash for Ridoc, or last minute school supplies for Sawyer, or Rhiannon staying very ahead of her Christmas shopping. 

What she sees instead is a man. He’s tall, with dark, wavy hair, and dark skin. His arms—very broad, ridiculously so, some might say—are crossed over his chest— which is also notably broad. He’s squinting at her like he’s scrutinizing something, which is uncalled for, in Violet’s opinion. Maybe she isn’t dressed to impress just yet, but the only thing she’d been planning on impressing was her planner, and it didn’t have eyes, so her combo of old sweatpants she’d cut into shorts and a gigantic tie-dye t-shirt with her school’s name on it had been perfectly appropriate. 

“You just open the door all the way, without knowing who’s outside?” the man demands. He stares at her as does it, unflinching and unyielding. 

Violet, naturally, does both flinch and yield, because she’s entirely confused. She takes a step back, to get a better look at the man, to try and see where on earth he gets his audacity, but she comes up empty. 

“Do I know you?” she retorts, indignant. 

He matches her indignation, card for card. “Do you not have a chain on your door?” 

“Of course I don’t have a chain on my door. This isn’t New York.”

“Do you think crime only happens in New York?” The man demands. “Do you think that none of your mother’s enemies can run a google search and find out where you are?” 

He shouldn’t have brought up her mother. He’d been so hot before he opened his mouth, but even still, he could have saved the whole thing and escaped with his hotness intact if he’d avoided bringing up her mother. 

“Okay,” Violet says, “This was fun. You can go now.” 

She moves to slam the front door shut, but he shoves out an arm, blocking her. 

“See?” he says. “This is why you need a door chain. You can’t keep me out. You’re not strong enough, but metal is.” 

She stares at him for a second, blinks, then decides. 

“Okay. You can leave, and also, fuck you. Who the hell do you think you are?”

He’s still holding her door open, so she cannot make him leave, unless she resorts to something petty like kicking his shins. His arm, outstretched to support the door, looks…enticing. She’ll give him that. He has an enticing arm. Assholes are, technically, allowed to have enticing arms. 

“You know who I am,” he replies. His tone betrays no humor, which is ridiculous, because there’s no way he’s serious. 

“I don’t, actually, or I wouldn't have asked,” she snaps. “Not that I care. You have one more chance to tell me, then you’re going to need to get the fuck out, or I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs, and my two male MMA fighter roommates are going to come out here and kick your ass.” 

Ridoc and Sawyer only took one MMA class as a bonding experience, but Violet knows they’ll at the very least get this man out of the doorway. 

The man studies her with that same analytical look he’d donned when she first opened the door. He looks her up and down, then comes to his conclusion. 

“She didn’t tell you.” 

“Who,” Violet seethes, “is she?”

“Your mother, “ he says, though he’s speaking slowly, thinking as he goes, “She didn’t tell you. She didn’t call you or anything?”

“The last time my mother called me was in the year of our lord two thousand and sixteen, and that was genuinely only because she thought I had been abducted, so no. My mother didn’t call me.”

She pushes against the door with all she has, and still, he doesn’t move. He might have over one hundred pounds on her, though, given his size and his muscle mass. She will definitely have to get creative. There’s a vase on the coffee table Rhiannon won’t miss. 

“I’m your new bodyguard,” the man says. He holds the hand that isn’t holding the door out to her, anticipating a handshake. “Xaden Riorson.” 

Violet stares at him, at his hand, and at him holding out his hand. She says, “No you’re not.” 

“I’m not Xaden Riorson, or I’m not your new bodyguard?” he asks. “Because I'm pretty sure I’m both.” 

“No,” she shakes her head furiously, emphatically. “No to both. You’re neither.” 

He sighs, shoves his hand into his pocket, and emerges with a badge. It has its own little leather case, but the badge itself is shiny and gold, with an eagle at the top and a silver star in the center. 

“Happy now?” he asks, voice dry. 

He’s not just a bodyguard. He's from the secret service. 

“I’m happy that you found your way into a costume shop, but it is that time of year,” Violet says. And she’s right. With the start of August comes a proliferation of Spirit Halloweens. One on every corner, practically. 

“It’s a real badge, Sorrengail.”

She hadn’t told him her last name, and she hates that he already knows it, that he knows her mother. It doesn’t give him any legitimacy, though. He’d said it himself—she’s really only a google search away. 

But, if he’s actually Xaden Riorson, so is he. 

“Hang on,” she says, brain already speeding down this train of thought. “Stay outside, or I will actually commit a crime.” 

She steps back from the door, and he raises his non-braced hand in surrender. He leaves his badge out, and though Violet keeps her eyes on him, he doesn’t move over her line in the sand. 

She finds her phone  abandoned on the couch. She turns it on quickly, and her eyes scan notifications, but there is, of course, nothing from Lilith. Even though it shouldn’t, her heart still sinks. She should know better than to allow hope to thrive where her mother is concerned, but evidently, she doesn’t. 

She opens Safari without checking her other notifications, and types in his supposed name. Xaden Riorson. 

The results are inconclusive. No one, it seems, knows what Xaden Riorson is up to. 

“Give me your driver’s license,” she demands. 

He sighs, irritably, but then he’s digging in his pocket once more, revealing a wallet, and presenting her with his ID. He holds it over the threshold, so she plucks it from his fingers and holds it up in the light. 

It looks real, though Violet’s never been big on fake IDs, because she’s never been big on doing anything she thinks might make her mother think she isn’t perfectly capable of caring for herself. Illegal activities fall squarely on her no-no list. 

The picture matches, though Violet’s almost certain there’s a way to make that happen with fake IDs, too. She thinks she’s supposed to see a line somewhere in the middle of the ID, if it is real, but she’s also not entirely sure that isn’t actually the procedure for counterfeit money, and the longer she holds his ID up to the light without finding said line, the less sure she is of the line’s existence at all. 

Finally, she says, “Hmm.” 

“Hmm?” he presses. 

“Well, I’m starting to think you’re Xaden Riorson, but that makes the secret service thing even less believable,” Violet says. 

“Does it?” His voice is bone-dry, but Violet doesn’t mind. She’ll get to the bottom of this without his help. 

“It does, because the Xaden Riorson I knew of was a senator’s son, and the sons of senators don’t just up and join the secret service.” 

“They don’t?” he asks, still dry as ever. 

“They don’t, because joining the secret service means you’re literally willing to die for the president.” 

“And senator’s sons can’t do that?” 

Other senator’s sons could, Violet thinks, but not Fen Riorson’s son. Fen Riorson had not been just any senator. Last election, Fen Riorson had been her mother’s main opponent, and when Americans went to the polls, they had not picked him. 

He’d died six months after the election, but not before hundreds of articles were written, claiming he wanted to share classified government intelligence with the public, things the people deserved to know, but those in office were too cowardly to tell them. 

His secrets died with him. 

And Violet knows her mother is a lot of things, but she wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t make the son of her biggest political rival her daughter’s bodyguard. Her daughter doesn’t even have a bodyguard, because her daughter does not need a bodyguard. 

“You can’t,” Violet says. “You, specifically.” 

“Well, unfortunately for you, Sorrengail, I did. What’s it gonna take for you to believe me? Want to see my work email? Want to meet my team?” 

She’s trying and failing to remember how hard it is to fake an email, or a series of emails, but he keeps talking. 

“Of course, I could just call your mom.” 

Her gaze darts to his. “You could call her?” she asks, but then, her brain catches up to her tongue. “Well, there’s AI now. You could fake her voice.”

“God, okay, you can call her and you can ask her three questions only she knows. How’s that? Do we have a deal? Because believe it or not, I have a job to do.”

She does not believe it, because if she does believe it, she is that job. She cannot be his job. 

“Fine!” Violet snaps, “Fine. I’ll call her. Don’t you dare come in.” He sighs that same exasperated sigh, and still, he doesn’t move. Violet moves to her contacts—she hadn’t lied about her mother’s radio silence. She really hasn’t talked to her mother on the phone in eight years. They also don’t text. Most of her communications are through her mother’s Chief of Staff, Colonel Aetos, who still goes by his military title. 

Still, her mother is in her phone under “birth giver” which had felt incredibly edgy when she did it at thirteen, but now makes her tilt her phone closer to herself, in case Xaden sees. 

Her mother’s personal line is secure, and though she doesn’t always carry her phone on her, she’s heard from Mira—who actually makes calls to their mother, when she’s not underwater—that their mother is good at picking up the phone. 

It rings once, and Violet bites her lip. It rings twice, and Violet’s foot begins to tap a thundering beat. 

It rings three times, and her mother’s voice sounds in her ear. 

“Violet?” Lilith asks. 

“Traditionally, “ Violet says, “people answer phone calls with ‘hello’.” 

“Traditionally, you don’t call me,” Lilith retorts. “I thought someone stole your phone.” 

“Nope. I’ve never had anything stolen from me because I am exceedingly competent.” Xaden huffs at this, which Violet cannot understand. She’s making a valid point. “And because of this exceeding competency, I can’t understand why there is a man at my door claiming to be part of the secret service. Can you comprehend this, mother?”

Violet will not be calling her mom.

“Is the man Xaden Riorson, or a member of his team?” Lilith asks. Violet thinks the world is sinking beneath her. She is slipping through the cracks. “Because if that’s the case, then yes. And he’s not claiming anything. Did he not show you his badge?” 

Violet swallows. Her throat is very, very dry. “You can get those badges anywhere.” 

“No you can’t. I have a country to run and an election to win, Violet, so if that’s all you had to say, I need to go.” 

She hasn’t spoken to her mother since her last mandatory Christmas visit. She’d spent the entirety of the summer sweating in California. And still, her mother doesn’t want to talk to her. 

“I don’t need a secret service agent, Mom,” Violet snaps. She feels suddenly sixteen again, when her mother was still her mother. 

“Correct. You don’t need one, you need four.” 

“I do not need four! I have never needed four!” 

Xaden Riorson is watching her start a screaming match with her mother, and Violet knows she should be embarrassed, but she’s too angry. She doesn’t have any energy to spare. 

“Did you hear that I was shot at recently, Violet?” 

“Of course I heard! Not from you, of course, because that would be too much to ask!” 

“Then connect the dots. You’re too intelligent to question me on this. Let Mr. Riorson do his job.” 

“He’s not Mr. Anything! He’s twenty-two!” 

“He is twenty two, which will make his work with you significantly easier on you. He’s also very good at his job. You’ll be safe. I don’t care if you’re angry with me if you’re safe.” 

“That’s ridiculous!” Violet seethes. “You’re being unreasonable! I have kept myself perfectly safe-” 

She is cut off by a beep. Her mother has hung up. Violet stares at the phone in her hand for a moment, then aggressively redials her mother’s number. 

Her mother doesn’t answer. 

Xaden Riorson is still in her doorway. 

“I didn’t quite realize it was like that between you two,” he says, casually, as if he didn’t just witness a sacred portion of Violet’s life imploding in her hands. Her privacy, destroyed. 

[alittlebitofloveliness]

hiii idk if ur still taking requests or not but if u are literally any kind of darry angst would be amazing 🤗🤗

Hi anon! This is a bit more Curtis brothers angst but Darry centric exploring what might have happened if the Curtis parents died two years earlier. Please lmk what you think!

***********

“Please” Darry begs, “I’ll be eighteen in a month. A month! I swear I can take care of them. Please don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry,” the social worker says, and to her credit she does sound like she means it, “Since you're almost eighteen and because you’ve provided me with adequate proof you can support yourself I’m going to allow you to remain here at this time, but Sodapop is only fourteen and Ponyboy just turned twelve. They need a real guardian.”

“I can be their guardian,” Darry vows. It’s wrong they’re even having this conversation. His college acceptance letter sits on his desk, his football trophies on the shelf and yet he’d give all of it away in a heartbeat for this crackpot old woman to see sense, to understand that he’s just lost both of his parents and he cannot lose his brothers too. Why doesn’t she understand that? “You said it yourself, I can support myself. I can support them too. The lawyer said Mom and dad left me the house. I can officially claim it in a month, and I can cover bills until then. I already got three offers for another job, and I know how to cook and clean and drive-”

“Darrel,” the social worker cuts him off firmly but kindly, “this has nothing to do with whether or not you are capable. In fact, from what I’ve seen, and the frankly remarkable job you’ve done holding your family together I’d be more than happy to help you petition for guardianship of your brothers at a later time, if it’s still something you feel strongly about doing, but the fact of the matter is that almost eighteen is not the same as eighteen. You are not a legal adult, and you cannot be your brothers’ legal guardian until you are. It doesn’t matter how responsible or adult you are right now. It can’t happen.”

“Please,” Darry implores, “you can’t take them. We just lost mom and dad, I can’t lose them too.”

“I really am sorry,” she says, “and I mean it when I say I will help you try and get guardianship in a month. But I can’t let them stay with you right now, and honestly? Maybe it’s a good thing. I know you love your brothers but guardianship would mean putting your life on hold until Ponyboy turns eighteen- eight years from now. You couldn’t go to college, travel, do much of anything really. This month will give you time to think that over, decide if it’s something you’re truly prepared to do.”

Anger, bright and hot as a supernova bursts in his chest.

“I would do anything to keep them. Anything. I don’t want college or sports or nothing if it means they’d be stuck in some foster home with people who don’t care anything about them.”

“We make sure all our foster parents are vetted very carefully-”

“Yeah, sure,” Darry scoffs, “I know a dozen kids who grew up in the foster system. I’m sure all those bruises were just from kids being kids, especially the handprints. With all due respect, I think you’ve forgotten what part of town you're in. East side kids never end up in the good homes.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“Save your apologies,” Darry chokes, ashamed to feel hot tears start to prick his eyes, “it’s clear your mind is made up and ain’t nothing I can do to change it.”

“I promise you, I will help you try and get them back. As soon as you're eighteen.”

“I’ll call you the minute the clock hits midnight on my birthday,” Darry threatens, “see if I won’t.”

“That’s fair,” the social worker smiles but Darry refuses to smile back. He hates her, for all she is trying to be as kind and helpful as she can. She’s going to take his brothers away. To him, she can only ever be a villain, “you guys can stay together here one more night while I sort out placements for Ponyboy and Sodapop. I’ll be back at ten tomorrow morning. Do you want to tell your brothers or should I?”

Well Darry sure as hell isn’t going to break their hearts, and Ms. Summers has done a good enough job already of shattering what remained of his own.

“You do it,” he spits, “I ain’t gonna ruin their lives.”

Her sympathy has run deep enough that pity now reigns on her face and she ignores his attitude, the way she has ignored all his attitude so far. It’s more than he probably deserves. He still hates her for it.

“No,” Soda says before Ms. Summers has even finished explaining, his brown eyes shining with a primal sort of fear that puts another crack in Darry’s already broken heart. Soda was made to be grinning, not meant to ever look so terrified, “no you ain’t puttin’ me in no foster house. Me’n my brothers are stayin’ right here, together, thank you very much.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t asking,” Ms. Summers says, still talking in that infuriatingly gentle tone. 

Soda- easygoing, sweet Sodapop, who called ladies ma’am without fail, who everyone adored- glares at her, backing away the way a cornered animal might.

“I ain’t going! I ain’t! And you ain't taking Pony neither! Darry ain’t gonna let you take us, right Dar?”

He looks at him, brown eyes wide and desperate in his face, and Darry knows things will never be the same after this because it’s his job to protect Soda and Pony, always has been and always will be, and yet right now he is failing to do just that and Soda may never forgive him for it.

“Soda…”

“No!” He’s crying now, tears running freely down his face as he clutches Ponyboy close to his side, arm falling protectively around their baby brother’s tiny shoulders because Pony- whose eyes are the same sort of haunted they’ve been since mom and dad died, and whose face shows nothing but terrified resignation- hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet. Because he’s twelve. Only twelve.

“I know this is hard for you” Ms Summers continues, “and I’m going to do my best to make sure you and Ponyboy get placed together, but you can’t stay with Darry right now.”

“Why not? He’s good at bein’ a guardian. Shit, I’ve eaten more vegetables in the last week than I ever did when mom and Dad were alive-

“Because Darry isn’t eighteen.” Ms. Summers cuts him off, “and you need to be at least eighteen for the government to consider granting guardianship.”

“I’m gonna get you back,” Darry promises, ignoring the social worker and instead locking eyes with his brothers, first Soda, then Pony, “I swear it, as soon as I turn eighteen I’m gonna get you back and you can come home and we’ll all be together again. But we gotta behave if I’m gonna have any chance at all, so please stop arguin’. I don’t like this any more than you do but we gotta-” he clears his throat, “we gotta play ball, ok kiddo? We gotta do what we’re told.”

Soda gives the social worker one more murderous glance, but pulls himself together, a mask of eerie calm overtaking his features. “Fine.”

“Ill see you all tomorrow then. I can show myself out.” Ms Summers offers them one last pitying smile as she shuts the door behind her. 

As soon as she’s gone Soda is on top of him, crying so hard he can hardly breathe,. Pony is clutching his other side so hard he might have bruises, and Darry wraps them both in his arms, wishing he could keep them here forever where they would be safe and he could help them relearn how to be happy. It’s somehow the worst and best moment of his life. On the one hand they’re still blissfully here with him. On the other hand, they won’t be for long.

“I’m sorry,” belatedly Darry realizes he’s crying too, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I tried everything, she wouldn't let me keep you, I tried, I tried.”

Pony just hugs him harder, burying his face in his chest and Soda wails.

Eventually they all stop crying, but the mood in the house is somber. The gang comes around, moods dampening one by one as they hear the news, and Darry makes chocolate cake for dinner since there’s no point in making healthy food if the social workers are taking the boys anyway. In the end it doesn’t matter- none of them have much of an appetite, even for cake.

He walks in on Steve and Soda plotting to run away together before the social worker comes. Talks them out of it by reminding them that he’ll never get guardianship if Soda goes truant while still technically in his care. Eventually, the gang leaves and the it’s the three of them once more, crowded together on the living room couch in an unspoken agreement. None of them want to sleep, unwilling to miss even a second that they have left together.

“Darry?” Pony whispers, his head resting on Darry’s shoulder.

“Yeah, bud?”

“I’m scared.”

“I know,” Darry says, heat clenching, “I’m scared too.”

A few minutes later Pony’s weight drops a little more against him and he starts to snore, out cold. Darry pulls him a little closer, plants a kiss on the top of his wild hair. 

“Soda?” Darry says softly a few minutes later, careful not to wake Pony.

“Hmm,” Soda blinks at him sleepily, “yeah Dar?’

“Promise me you’ll take care of him,” he glances down at Ponyboy’s peaceful face. Asleep like this he looks downright childlike, “and yourself too, savvy? I’m sorry- I’m sorry I can’t do it myself, but you gotta be strong for me, alright? Just for a month or two until I get you back.”

“I promise,” Soda vows, “he’ll be safe with me, I’ll make sure of it. No matter where they put us.”

“I know you will, little buddy.”  Darry sighs. 

Soda sniffs. “I’m really gonna miss you, Dar. it ain’t right, takin’ me from my big brother when we just lost our folks. It ain’t right.”

“I’ll get you back,” Darry promises again, because what else is there to say, really? “I’ll talk to the president himself if I have to but I swear I’ll get you back.”

“I know you will,” Soda tells him, eyes shining. 

They don’t talk for the rest of the night.

The morning dawns with a sunrise that mocks them with it’s beauty and a buttery sunshine that illuminates the sorrow on all their faces when Mrs. Summers shows up and they all have to say goodbye. The gangs around, everyone but Dallas who got jailed two days ago, and Pony and Soda take their time with their goodbyes. When Soda reaches Darry, he hugs him tight for a second, and gets chocked up trying to say something three times before he gives up. Pony hugs Darry with a strength he rarely sees from the kid, and Darry tells him over and over that he loves him because when things get tough that’s the sort of thing Ponyboy forgets.

Then they leave, Mrs. Summers' blue Toyota rounding the corner, and a big part of Darry’s heart goes with them.

He goes back inside. Steve and Two-bit both follow him, casting him concerned looks, but he can’t deal with their worry right now. He has twenty eight days before his birthday to compile an airtight case as to why he’s the perfect guardian for a teenager and a preteen boy, and three job offers on his desk that can make that case a lot more airtight than it currently is.

It’s time to get to work.

[hannie-dul-set]

CAN’T HANDLE THIS — N.JM.

SUMMARY. how are you supposed to explain that you and na jaemin started dating just to prove each other wrong and ended up catching feelings.

PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader GENRE. strangers to lovers, college! au, matchmaking! au, yet another richkid! au, jaemin is an asshole again, romance, humor. WARNINGS. excessive swearing, a near death experience, drinking and smoking, more than a handful of illegal shit, mentions of vomit, again jaemin is kind of a dick but he’s an attractive dick, jaemin also likes it when you tell him his personality is trash. WORD COUNT. teaser: 490 | full fic: est. 10k. RELEASE DATE. next week.

NOTE. i’m sick and tired of jaemin being a sweetheart so i’ve made it a mission to turn him into a piece of shit for this fic and the next. idc if you tell me it’s out of character idc idc i am forwarding my asshole! jaemin agenda once again and no one can stop me.

also, don’t worry about getting blueballed because i’ve already drafted and outlined most of the fic. once i finish my last final exam this week, i’ll be free enough to go feral and finish this.

send me an ask/dm to be added to the taglist. preview under the cut.

“This the girl you’re trying to set me up with this time?”

Your expression falters, but it’s fine because the way his voice just sounded can forgive the disrespect he just rendered for referring to you without even sparing you a greeting. It’s a raspy flavor, almost a mumble in his throat. One offense— you can take it for now. If he can behave for the next hour or so and prove the rumors wrong, you might actually grace your dad with approval that you’re going to give this a shot.

His mother lights up, giving him your name and a brief introduction.

“Hi. Nice to meet you,” you smile. Jaemin’s eyes stay on you for a good five seconds. This is dangerous. He shouldn’t be allowed to do that.

Heat swirls around your cheekbones, giddy from the prospect of your love life finally flourishing after all those failed matchups. If only Jaemin decided to shut up for the rest of the night, then maybe the heat in your cheeks wouldn’t have shot up into your head and triggered a nerve.

“She’s pretty cute,” he says, and you’re almost hopeful. “But I doubt she can handle me. I’m going. Don’t wait for me to come home.”

Your smile twitches. Oh. Oh, so he’s like that.

His mother tries to stop him, but Jaemin is already up, not caring about the collateral damage of clattering plates and glasses on the table from his careless movements. 

There’s no way you’re gonna let him leave like this after injuring your ego like that.

“What makes you think I can’t?”

Jaemin freezes, his back turned towards you but his neck slowly cranes, revealing the side profile of his face. His eyes are narrow when he looks at you. There’s a subtle quirk of his lips. He breaks into a scoff. “What makes you think that you can?”

God damn, if only he didn’t start acting up, you would be on your knees.

“I don’t know. You look pretty easy.”

Something tugs on the corners of his mouth, then he fully turns around, walking back up to the table. He plasters his hands on the tablecloth, slightly leaning forward that his head blocks the chandelier light and his shadow hovers over your face. “Free tomorrow?”

“I can make time.”

“Great.”

Jaemin leaves behind a choking, arid tension when he exits the booth. You look at your father who seems like he can’t choose between feeling horrifically alarmed or pleasantly surprised. Clearing your throat, you take another sip from your drink before resuming your meal. You’re sure you’re going to get indigestion, but you can’t think of another way to get your parents and his to move on from the events that just transpired.

Eventually, the tension was swallowed by the clatters of knives and sauces and conversations once again. The only conclusion you can come up with is that this time, their matchmaking failed successfully.

can’t handle this. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 13)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Brief Mention of Stillbirth

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

Two weeks had passed and you had almost moved on with your life which did not involve your family. 

Your mother had kicked you out of her own house following your tryst with Cillian. But as luck would have it, your cousin Lukas had offered you a place to stay after Emma's parents too would not allow you to remain at their family home for more than a week.

You had to find a job quickly to sustain yourself and fortunately, you managed to secure employment at a local bookstore. The hours were flexible, and they paid decently, making your living situation somewhat manageable under these circumstances.

School, however, had to give way to your new lifestyle and you chose to transfer to college in the evening in an attempt to finish your education.

As far as Cillian was concerned, you had not heard from him since that afternoon, leaving you in a state of limbo regarding your relationship status with him.

From the local papers, you since learned that he had finally left Danielle and was now publicly fighting for custody of his son Max who the columns claimed was not his actual son at all.

Yet none of this mattered as you sat there staring blankly into space, haunted by memories and regret. Overwhelmed by guilt and confusion, you tried to block out the past few months - how you became entangled in such a mess with no future, only moments spent locked away from the world. But, it wasn’t easy. It felt as though the entire universe conspired to punish you for daring to experience passion beyond societal norms, yet you continued searching deep inside yourself for answers that wouldn't come easily.

You were pregnant with Cillian's child and an abortion was not currently something you could afford emotionally nor financially, forcing you to confront your reality alone. For the first time in years, the choices you made seemed to echo hollowly in your ears as you attempted to navigate this complex web of deceit, betrayal, and self-discovery.

"Em, I do not know what to do," you admitted honestly, breaking down in tears as she visited you, just like she did every day after you finished work. 

Emma pulled you close, offering comfort as she held you tight.

"We're going to figure this out together," she assured you reassuringly, wiping away your tears. "But I honestly think that you need to tell Cillian," Emma added cautiously. "He has a right to know."

Her advice struck a chord in you, causing you to sit upright and nod thoughtfully.

"I asked him if he could meet, about a week ago, and he never got back to me, Em!" you said, feeling worthless and unwanted.

"He is going through a lot himself and he doesn't know about you carrying his child. Maybe you should try and give him a call again?" Emma interjected, attempting to mediate.

Despite Emma's suggestion, you remained hesitant, unsure whether reaching out to Cillian was the right decision. Nevertheless, you decided to pick up your phone and call him regardless of the consequences.

After a series of rings, someone else picked up on the other end – a stranger.

“Hello, can I speak to Cillian please?” you asked politely, trying hard to maintain composure amidst growing anxiety.

"Who am I speaking to?" replied the unfamiliar voice, curiosity evident in her tone.

”This is Y/N and I really need to speak with him,” you introduced yourself, taking a deep breath in preparation for what might follow. “Is Cillian available, please?” you begged and, just after you did, there was silence on the line for several seconds before the woman spoke up again.

"So, you are the homewrecker?" she snarled bitterly, anger radiating from her voice.

You flinched upon hearing those harsh words directed at you. You didn't expect the person answering Cillian's phone to actually know who you were, but then again, you did not know about the woman on the other line either.

"Listen, my brother isn't available. Don't call again. Please don't bother him anymore," came the venomous reply. Taken aback by the hostility, you couldn't understand why she reacted so aggressively when you hadn't even spoken poorly of Cillian. After a momentary pause, you found your voice.

"Actually, it's important we talk, whether you like it or not," you stated resolutely, ignoring the sharp edge in her voice. There was another brief silence followed by a mocking laughter that broke the air.

"Listen sweetheart, Cillian is going through legal proceedings against his wife, Danielle, because of you. He should not be speaking to you and if you call this phone again, I will provide you with a cease-and-desist letter on my brother's behalf. Any further contact will be considered as harassment, " she threatened ominously making you realise that the woman on the other end of the line was not only Cillian's sister, but also his solicitor, handling his custody case. 

You recalled having met her at the funeral a few weeks ago. Her name was Alison and she worked at one of the largest law firms in Dublin. 

As the conversation progressed, it became apparent that she despised you with an intensity that took you off guard. To make matters worse, she insisted you ceased communication with Cillian altogether. This was problematic considering she served as both Cillian's attorney and sister, putting her in a unique and potentially influential position.

You struggled to comprehend the full extent of your predicament until now. How were you supposed to inform Cillian about the child growing inside you without incurring the wrath of his sister?

It appeared impossible. Nonetheless, you had to reach out somehow, eventually, and hope for understanding from both sides despite their conflicted history.

As days turned into weeks, you grew increasingly anxious and restless, worrying constantly about how you were going to break the news to Cillian as the dire three-month mark drew nearer and you had yet another appointment with a local social worker to discuss your situation.

She offered you both, a community funded loan to carry out the procedure you needed or the option of putting you in touch with an adoption agency so that, further down the track, you could give up your child if you desired to do so.

Although it may seem cruel, it seemed practical and logical in light of your situation and, in the end, even Emma agreed with you on that front. The idea that you could choose whether or not to become a parent appealed to your desire for control over your destiny. However, this was easier said than done. Having a baby meant drastically altering your course forever, but you also knew that, not having the baby, might cause you regret. 

The choice loomed large, casting its shadow over your daily existence. You frequently found yourself pondering the gravity of your options while walking along the quiet streets surrounding your temporary residence late at night. You often stopped in your tracks, contemplating your fate as a result of your irresponsible actions.

Life seemed determined to play itself out according to the chaos you created. Every passing day brought you closer to facing the inevitable truth and this truth was now something you had to confront by yourself. Without the man who caused all this by your site. 

Tags:

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[duchezss]

All my favorite moments in blue beetle: a very long and silly list because this is my new fav movie ever (latinos on top fr)

The fact that the entire movie is low key a representation of how lost people can feel after they finish college and don't know what to do with their life.

How celebrated it is that Jaime is a first gen college student

As much as I loved him being from el paso, I love that he now gets his own city that it still deeply rooted in latino culture

How despite the fact that everything is going bad for the family, Jaime still tries to keep moral up and be positive

Jaime stands up for Jenny without thinking

How his persistence is what ends him landing up with the scarab, and subsequently keeping it out of victorias hands

Am I allowed to say his entire family? The scene where they're all pushing him to open to the box was so funny. Their dynamic felt so real, and it makes even more sense because apparently any time they were bickering it was improv.

How well the movie handled micro-aggressions against latinos. Like the receptionist didn't even attempt Jaime name, and how Victoria would never get her scientist's name right. They are subtle, but very real problems.

Maybe this was just me, but from the trailers I thought Jenny and Jaime already new each other, but I liked that they just met. It made their story more interesting.

The body horror route they decided to take with the suit was so cool.

The suit in general. I missed practical suits so much, and it just looked so amazing.

Another thing, that has already been talked about a lot but idc, is that I still am so in love that his family knows from the get go. Of course it wasn't really his choice, but I love how there is never any big secret, and they are constantly in the picture.

I know the Khaji-Da doesn't have as much personality compared to the comics, but the whole sequence where Jaime first gets the suit was so funny.

Notoriously in the comics the beetles were sent out to worlds to be the harbingers for their creator species to invade said world. I loved the small detail in the intro of the blue beetle crashing into the green beetle and then having a flash of electricity. I wonder if that was to hint at a malfunction, since the Khaji-Da never goes to evil with Jaime.

I love Rudy's truck. It's stupid but that's why it's so good.

The whole family debrief was was funnier than it should've been, and the beetle on Jaime spine looked wicked as well.

I thought it was interesting how much of a presence Ted Kord had on the movie, mainly because. of Jenny, but it was still there.

Every. Single. Latino. Reference. I could barely keep up there were so many good ones omg, the details were amazing.

For Jenny being an original character I thought she was done very well

I love how Rudy was useful and basically got them into kord industries.

I love the way we only see Jaime eyes in the suit. It's a different approach to what we've seen with masked heroes so far and I love it

How much they talked about the first two blue beetles, I thought adding that context made it better

They made it very evident how lonely Jenny feels, and I think her small emotional moments really paid off in the end.

I love how Jaime was so openly affectionate with both Rudy and his father, it's something uncommon with men in latino cultures and I loved seeing it.

The entire sequence where Jaime's house was being raided was so uncomfortable. And it was in moments like this were I thought Soto did a great job of weaving real world problems latinos face within a superhero movie.

The moment when Jaime's father had a heart attack, and Jaime was being dragged away, and his sister was screaming was just so heartbreaking and powerful. All of them were hurting so much.

I loved how active his family was, and how all of them immediately went to go rescue him.

Side note: the bug ship looked so cool and goofy and I loved it so much

How Jose was actually very curious about Jaime's connection to the beetle, but Victoria didn't care

The whole dream scene with Jaime and his father. I thought it perfectly mirrored their conversation from the beginning of the movie, and I thought it was incredibly moving. Not to mention I loved the detail of Jaime wearing the last outfit he saw his father in.

I loved that Jaime saved himself, but that his family greatly aided him. I thought it was a great metaphor for the fact that you can do things on your own, but having support can really make the difference

I thought it was so funny that Jaime absolutely refused to kill, and his family members did it was a smile on their face lmaoo.

I know it's cheesy, but I always love it in superhero movies when the main character finally accepts their destiny and it was a very cool moment for Jaime too. But I will say I think they did it with an interesting approach. For most superhero movies the big moment is the superhero finally deciding to go out of their way and fight the big bad, but in this movie he just finally fights what's right in front of him.

How once Jaime accepted himself as the Blue Beetle, Khaji-Da started speaking to him in spanish and adopted his ideologies, further proving their relationship is a two way street.

I loved that Khaji-Da stopped Jaime from killing Carapax, because he was justifiable angry, but he would've regretted it at some point

The low key plot twist of the locket Carapax had not being his wife and child, but being him and his mother. That was genius tbh.

I loved that Jaime had the iconic 2000s superhero half masked fight. This movie felt so 2000's but in the best way possible.

How the entire final act was circling back to the point of loving his family making him weak, but throughout everything we've seen, it's clearly the opposite.

I liked how once Jaime bonded with Khaji his mask would come on and off on command.

How Jaime started wearing his father's necklace in the ending :(

I loved the entire score so much, the synth wave vibe they decided to take was fantastic. I also love how iconic and recognizable they made blue beetle's main theme. Like the bum bum bummm that kept showing up was so good.

I really loved how they aged Jaime up to 22 as a newly college grad. I feel like superheros are always either 16 or 40 and there's never any in between, so it was nice to see.

And for my last point to a very long list: I loved that in the end Carapax helped Jaime and Jenny. Because the real villain was Victoria making them fight each other, and in my opinion that was such a powerful metaphor for latinos and any pocs

[dragonsdendoodles]

University head cannons? Like which u I each kid would go to

So uh

I am an American who knows next to nothing about American universities, much less British ones.

As in I could maybe name five American universities off the top of my head and that's including both the one I go to now and the one I grew up really wanting to go to

But instead I can give you what I think each of them would do in college so here's that :)

(we're not worrying about money because Millard canonically has like. 20 different degrees)

Jacob wanted to do psychology and peculiar history. He does the former almost exclusively online and the latter with Millard, who did peculiar history again so that Jacob would do it with him.

Emma did photography. And metalsmithing, because they let her play with fire.

Millard is, as stated, doing peculiar history again, but at this point I'm decently sure Millard is trying to 100% degrees in peculiar studies and I wouldn't be surprised if eventually he did that with normal degrees as well.

Bronwyn got a degree in education and is very regularly a substitute teacher in the present as well as a teacher in loops, to give ymbrynes breaks when they need them.

Enoch did not want to go to college. However, funeral homes nowadays require degrees, and he did not have any other ideas as to what he could do as a job, and everyone else decided to at least try to have lives in the normal world and he didn't want to be left out.

Horace took as many fashion design classes as they would physically let him. He's gotten three degrees in fashion design. Just because.

Olive and Claire are babies I will accept them going to high school but they are not allowed to do college they're too little.

Hugh and Fiona did not do college. They started a farm.

Noor got an art degree. She works in a tattoo shop in the present.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi, I’m a 23 year old INFP. Due to childhood trauma and growing up in an abusive household, but ultimately I suppose due to my own personal struggle to take control of my life, I feel very behind and unaccomplished at my age. I have yet to finish my degree. I managed to get through high school with flying colours, but it turned out I was completely incapable of managing my depression and focusing on school at the same time. As a result, I’ve dropped out for the time being (I’m about halfway done) and have decided to focus on managing myself, personal development, and getting my finances in order before continuing school.

I feel a lot of shame and guilt for not completing school on time, as I’ve always seen myself as “smart” and “scholarly” I suppose, and was raised to hold education in high regard. To put things into perspective a bit more, I’ve always struggled with procrastination, getting things done on time and allowing my emotions to completely captivate me to the point where I easily neglect my duties. Despite this, I managed to get through high school as an outstanding student, but like I said earlier, this did not carry on into college unfortunately.

I feel like I’m less than half of the person that I could be. I also feel held back by my typology. I recall that you don’t hold much regard for enneagram, but I will just say being an INFP 4, it feels like I was born as the type most susceptible to failure. Now, I know INFP does not equal failure, as my best friend is also one and is a relatively successful business woman. However, she has things in life that I severely lack; adequate parental guidance, self esteem, and what I’d describe as much more developed Si. This isn’t to say things were handed to her, she worked for a lot of what she has now, but I do think that she was blessed with much more assets than I was.

I guess what I feel is that INFP is the least useful brain to have in a situation like mine. I have not a logical mind, nor a desire for any sort of order like Js do, and on top of that I was not taught any life skills, and all of my emotional intelligence was developed on my own, through observation. So, I’m great at giving advice, and horrible at applying it to my own life. I’ve been said to be wise, insightful, and particularly good at dissecting interpersonal relationships, yet nothing about my situation in life would reflect this, except maybe my relationships I have with my friends, to a degree.

I know I lack emotional intelligence despite being told otherwise, and this is something I’ve only recently come to terms with. I now believe if I truly had emotional intelligence, I would be in a better position than I am now. I have a tendency to avoid things that make me feel bad. I enjoy staying up late and staying in bed all day. I feel very unequipped to deal with society. I hate strangers, I hate being yelled at, I hate being invalidated, I hate being misunderstood, and all of these hatreds and my incompatibility with society were solidified during the years I worked (fast food, sales, and call centers). I am now very hesitant to get a job, I feel like I’ll be unable to succeed at anything I’m actually qualified for, as it often requires dealing with strangers. I don’t know how I did it before, but I do remember feeling dread during every work hour. I am scared to be in that position again.

I have a tendency to do more for others than myself. I’ll spend all day or longer writing an essay for a friend, or helping them with their homework, and yet I cannot bring myself to focus on my own studies. I can give a friend mountains of advice, perhaps even a detailed life plan, but I can’t begin to truly dissect my own problems and figure something out. It is so much easier engaging with someone else’s problems instead of my own. These days, I often feel like some sort of side character, someone meant to uplift others, but cannot experience any development for themselves. The narrative isn’t focused on me, although I so desperately want it to be.

I want to be accomplished. I want to be strong. I want to face strangers with ease. I want to be able to push aside my feelings in order to work hard. I want to be comfortable with myself, to be a beacon of hope for others, not just by my words and ability to connect with others, but by who I am as a person on my own.

But I am so inconsistent in my pursuits of self improvement, and so easily defeated. I’ve tried and failed a million times. I’ve improved myself over time, but the improvement has been minuscule and inconsistent. It isn’t entirely my fault, as there are circumstances I won’t get into that quite literally force me away from my goals, but I know that I need to find a work around and learn to cope with them so that I may one day succeed and leave these circumstances.

I just don’t know what to do. How can such a sensitive, reclusive, and traumatized person such as myself break their chains? Is it even possible to live up to the greatness I desire that lives only in my head? As an INFP born into such unlucky circumstances, am I destined to always fall short of the person I need to become?

My friends tell me that I’m a great person. They would say I’m capable and that they’ve seen proof. I am cursed with the knowledge that they speak with bias, and their perceptions of me are not based off reality, but by subjective feelings of tenderness. I feel like if anything, it’s been proven that I am incapable.

The only thing I’m really “good” for is giving emotional support to others, but that means nothing to society and absolutely nothing to myself. When I say this, I don’t mean to say that I don’t value kindness or the ability to connect, but that these “strengths” of mine do not realistically benefit my life. Being empathetic is nice for others who know me, but it hasn’t made me a more accomplished or skilled individual, and it hasn’t added any pride to my image. It doesn’t mean much to me if in the end I still can’t take care of myself and I still don’t have much value as a member of society. Especially when I look around and see how much more accomplished my peers who are much more insensitive than me are.

How do I change? How can I live up to my own expectations and standards? How do I fight back?

----------------------

You've brought up a lot of different points, so I'll attempt to break them down for you:

(1) Type Clarification: How did you come to INFP and are you certain this is the correct type? I am obliged to clarify this point because function development isn't going to work for you unless you have the correct type. Generally speaking, based on my experience with type assessment, there are certain warning signs that indicate a mistype, and you display a few of them, so it's important to double check before proceeding.

(2) A Problem of Perspective: What you've written is basically a narrative of your life that explains how you got to this point. What you don't seem to understand yet is that a "narrative" isn't reality. A narrative is merely a story that is told from a very narrow and specific point-of-view.

I always like to bring up the children's story The Ugly Duckling as an example of how a personal narrative can heavily influence one's perspective and lead one into forming faulty beliefs about oneself and the world. The main character of the story wasn't able to truly understand himself until he realized that his personal narrative was all wrong. You are in a similar boat.

Whether they realize it or not, everyone has a personal narrative, a story that they tell themselves about who they are. How do we know whether the narrative is a good one? Think about what a narrator does in a novel:

- A story always makes more sense and is more easily understood when the narrator isn't the main character but rather an omniscient or godly being that tells the story from an objective vantage point (third person perspective). As such, we can trust that the narrator is providing a full and factual account.

- When the narrator is the main character (first person perspective), you will find that the story is more difficult to understand for two reasons: 1) there is a lack of information due to lack of access to other perspectives in the story, and 2) readers must suffer the same distortions in belief and flaws in memory that the character suffers.

Knowing this, I will point out two problems with your narrative...

(3) Lack of Objectivity: The first problem with your narrative is that it is stuck in the first person perspective. You very much lack a bigger picture view of things, which is not an uncommon problem for introverts who struggle with tertiary loop. This is a sign of insufficient extraverted development, i.e., trapped in subjectivity and lacking objectivity. You're unable to see yourself and your situation from any other perspective but your own, to the point where you actively dismiss every other valid perspective.

Lack of bigger picture thinking is often correlated to depression. Your mind basically operates as though having fallen into a pit, with no view of anything but yourself. Spend enough time being stuck with yourself and every little thing that flits through your mind gets amplified manyfold, such that every ache and pain feels much larger than it really is.

If you are INFP, this situation should be remedied through auxiliary Ne development that would grant you a more open-minded, optimistic, resourceful, ambitious, and forward-thinking attitude. It's not about "shoving your feelings aside" but about learning to see things in a more positive light. The cure to being too negative is to learn how to balance it by being more open to the positive.

Healthy NPs never shy away from problems because they trust in Ne, i.e., they exercise their creative problem solving skills as necessary to get over hurdles and obstacles, even transforming them into something positive. So, why aren't you exercising Ne? What have you done to develop Ne? It is troubling (and perhaps a sign of being mistyped) when the auxiliary function is completely absent from your cognition.

(4) Poor Critical Thinking: The second problem with your narrative is that it was spun out of faulty beliefs. You've basically been telling yourself a bogus story, over and over again, and now you believe that every word is true. When a narrative is fundamentally flawed like this, the remedy is to change the story and make it more objective as mentioned above in point #3, as well as more factual.

While there are facts peppered throughout your story, your interpretation of the facts is often incorrect. You want to believe you have a good grasp of the facts, but you don't.

For example, the fact is that the education system, being as big as it is and not having all the resources in the world, cannot be much more than a crude one-size-fits-all approach to learning. As such, it's not going to work equally well for everyone. There are always going to be students with special needs or unique circumstances that won't flow smoothly through the system as planned. If the system isn't working for you, is it something to take as a personal failure and feel deeply ashamed about?

I used to teach critical thinking courses and there was one problem I encountered again and again. Many people think they understand facts, but the truth is that they don't even have basic knowledge of what a fact is.

For example: Yes, it is a fact that you were deprived a healthy childhood. Yes, it is a fact that you had to drop out of your studies. These things happened and they are provable. However, how did you jump from these simple facts to make claims such as "I'm a failure"? Calling yourself a failure isn't a fact but rather a value judgment, and in this case, it is an unjustified value judgment.

An easy way to tell whether someone has poor critical thinking skills is to see whether they can tell the difference between a fact and a value. You aren't able to, and many people aren't able to. Believing that you have a good grasp of the facts when you actually don't is how you end up with faulty beliefs. When you go through life with faulty beliefs, you're much more likely to take the wrong approach, make errors, and suffer from unconscious biases and prejudices.

People aren't born with good critical thinking; it must be learned and practiced. There are lots of resources for improving, and you ought to improve because it's vital for challenging faulty beliefs. However, deeply entrenched beliefs are difficult to change on your own because your ego is invested in them, so it might be a good idea to work with a cognitive-behavioral therapist. They can be your objective party and help point out exactly where your thinking is going wrong. But this is assuming that you're willing to open your mind to other perspectives.

(5) Emotional Reasoning: Yes, you are quite right that you need to improve your emotional intelligence. Throughout your story, I see many thinking errors that lead you to draw incorrect judgments/conclusions. But what lies at the heart of those errors is that your thought process frequently gets hijacked by unresolved negative emotions. Improving your emotional intelligence would not only help improve your mood, it would also help stop emotional reasoning.

In your story, you're trying to link cause and effect, in order to provide an explanation of the factors that led you to this point in life. This seems like a reasonable and logical thing to do. However, people who are prone to emotional reasoning often get cause and effect backwards or misattribute causes. When they're feeling bad, they concoct a story to explain and justify their negative feelings. In effect, they start with a conclusion and then selectively gather evidence to support it, which is backwards from proper logical reasoning that should start with the evidence and then draw the most logical conclusion from it.

For example, you claim that the only thing you're good for is providing emotional support, which implies that you're good at it. How can we prove this statement? One way would be to examine the results of the support you've given. Did people appreciate the support? Did it help them? Did it change them? If so, you can be said to be good at it.

But apparently what they say doesn't count as evidence. Somehow only you have access to the real evidence. Don't you find it odd that so many of your thought processes come back to you having some magical ability to access a deeper truth that others can't see? You call yourself a failure who is unable to do anything right on one hand, but then insist that you couldn't possibly be wrong when it comes to assessing yourself, on the other hand. This is the kind of contradictory thinking that emotional reasoning gets you mired in.

If being able to empathize isn't a skill, valuable both to oneself and others, then all the great friends, parents, caregivers, educators, coaches, doctors, nurses, vets, counselors, therapists, social workers, artists, musicians, writers, librarians, gardeners, and zookeepers should just delete themselves for their utter uselessness to society. Heck, I should just delete my whole blog right now because I don't get anything from writing this for you, yes?

There are absolutely personal benefits to be had from being empathetic. Through supporting and helping others, you can experience:

the dignity of choosing to be an honorable/humane person

the intimacy of deep and meaningful relationships

the satisfaction of reaping the fruits of your emotional labor

the joy of making a positive difference in the world

the awe of witnessing the realization of greater potential

It seems you can't recognize these benefits because they contradict the failure narrative and the negative emotions you're struggling with. Any evidence that makes you feel good about yourself must be rejected, right? Isn't it odd that you've closed off every path to feeling good about yourself except an impossible one, i.e., living up to some imaginary standard of what you believe all people your age should be? It's almost as though you are intent on believing the worst about yourself, so you set yourself up for failure with unreasonable expectations. But this is emblematic of how emotional reasoning messes up the mind.

People aren't born with great emotional intelligence. It's yet another thing you must learn and practice throughout life, that is, if you don't want your emotions to be out of your control. It doesn't matter when you start learning; it only matters that you start.

(6) Changing the Narrative: There are distinct patterns in our personal narratives, which Jung conceptualized as archetypes. Understanding these patterns from a more objective vantage point can help us craft a narrative that serves us better. At the end of the day, you are the one narrating the story, and you could choose to tell a different story at any time.

To give you an example, if I were to analyze your narrative, I'd say that your perspective is that of an "orphan". Orphans see themselves as rejected children, so their approach to the world is one of neediness for love but also deep resentment/anger about being abandoned. Orphans are prone to feeling: unmoored, confused, ashamed, helpless, hopeless, apathetic, fatalistic.

Of course, it's appropriate to feel: unmoored when you don't have a safe and stable home base to operate from; confused when you don't have enough social support; ashamed when you struggle more than others; helpless when you don't know what to do; hopeless when every attempt fails; apathetic when you get disappointed too many times; fatalistic when the odds seem stacked against you.

Nobody is saying that your feelings are invalid. What matters most is how you interpret the feelings and what you do about them. The problem is that, through emotional reasoning, you take your negative feelings and turn them into cynical judgments and then make decisions that leave you perpetually feeling like an orphan.

A narrative becomes sinister when one starts to derive some kind of egotistical benefit from it, which then breeds resistance against changing it. Are you willing to change your narrative at this point?

For example, many orphans keep telling the orphan story because it allows them to benefit from victimhood. Being a victim has its "perks". Victims have the right to self-pity. They have the right to rage against whatever they feel victimized by. They can also expect special treatment or extra care. As such, you will find that orphans often reject love and stay orphans in the end because they don't want to give up the "perks" of victimhood.

I'm not saying this example applies to you, but have you reflected on why you have a pattern of rejecting people's attempts to console you and provide you with evidence that you are actually a good and worthy person? Have you reflected on why you insist on telling the orphan story when other narratives are readily available to you?

For example, you could choose the "misfit" narrative. There are plenty of people, often INFPs, who march to the beat of their own drum and carve out their own unique path to success in life. Or, you could choose the "creator" narrative. INFPs generally love to use their imagination to come up with new and novel ways to live life outside the box. Why is it that you believe there's only one path available to you, that life is only about living up to society's unimaginative standards?

Or, you could embrace the "caregiver" narrative. It could be quite a heroic story, and it might lead you into a very meaningful and fulfilling career. Caregivers change people's lives for the better, which drives tangible and positive societal change. Yet, you reject this story and call caregiving worthless because you believe it is a "weakness" easily exploited. People mistreating you isn't something for you to be ashamed of. It is the perpetrators of abuse that ought to be ashamed and punished for their immoral behavior. How long are you going to keep punishing yourself for someone else's problem?

With regard to dealing with people, it sounds like you haven't learned about healthy boundaries. Boundary setting is a practical problem that can be addressed with practical solutions. Yet you turn it into some kind of grand existential crisis and make sweeping statements about the world. Do you really want to spend your whole life locked away, living in fear? It might feel good right now because it's safe, but in the long run you will actually be wasting away for not challenging yourself to reach your greater potential.

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I'm not saying that any of these problems are easy to resolve. But these problems shouldn't be viewed in the traditional sense of needing a "fix" or that something is "wrong" (with you). These kinds of problems I've outlined are actually spiritual calls to change and improve. How do you change? It is through confronting what we lack and what we are afraid of that allows us to grow as human beings.

How can you live up to your own expectations and standards? Maybe a better question to ask is whether you've set the right expectations and standards? If you don't want to always feel bad about yourself, then you have to get up and start doing the things that will lead you to feel better about yourself. And we each have our own path to take to developing self-esteem and self-worth. Once you understand and respect your own individuality, then maybe you can exercise more self-compassion and allow yourself to live and learn at your own pace.

How do you fight back? I don't think it's necessary to "fight". Would you yell and scream and dump a flower in the trash just because it didn't grow as fast as the other seeds you planted? No, hopefully you would give it extra care to ensure that it has everything it needs to grow well. That's how you should be treating yourself. If you didn't grow up in an environment that taught you good life skills, then it is incumbent upon you to learn them as an adult, for the sake of your own well-being.

Life has enough challenges; you don't need to be fighting yourself. Instead of wasting time dwelling in fatalistic narratives, see yourself as a human being who is capable of learning and adapting. Learn to treat yourself well and cut out the noise to focus primarily on picking up the knowledge you need to progress in life, not just academics.